There's a Catch
by schizo and proud
Summary: This was just an undercover story: What's It Like to Date Satoshi Hiwatari? So... how did I get in so deep? Shounenai. TakeshixSatoshi
1. The Proposal

Schizo: Yes, well, I actually found two pages of this in the bowels of my computer, which wasn't much to work off from, but I got an idea out of my insomnia. Yeah, unfortunately, I'm one of those writers who has insomnia and a love-hate relationship _with _that insomnia because without it... a lot of my writing would not be here... That isn't to say it's my dependency, just... helps.

Anyways, this story is dedicated to **Shadow Vampiress.** I've changed my mind on you actually. I'll still make the _Poker_ fic (it's in the works as I type this and starts of juicy), but I like this one better because it's well... funnier. And cuter. And longer. And well, there's not sex (or if there is, it'll be implied), but there's still TakeshixSatoshi goodness.

Oh, yes, in case you haven't noticed. I'm slowly trying to grow the SatoshixTakeshi since well... no one else will due to... what? Fear?

Well, no more! I want my fics damn it. Even if I have to... read... my... own.

God, that's sad.

Anyways, there's profanity in here--some heavy, some not. I've said it once, I'll say it again: You all curse like there's no tomorrow, so don't be surprised it's T.

Read on, folks.

I don't own D N Angel.

**linebreakeritsaround417thismorningandwhewmyparentswillbewakingupinaboutanhourillbescrewedifigetcaughtonthecomputer**

_**Takeshi**_

"Is being an ice cream man _really _such a great job?"

"Kid," There is a threatening tone being directed towards me. "Stick that microphone in my face again and I'll shove it up your ass."

Sunday, 4:59 PM

"Right," I take the microphone back and continue, "Well, uh, I hear that you once threw an ice cream cone at an eight-year-old's face, causing them to cry. Is this true?"

"What?"

And not a single bit of information worth telling…

"Oh, you didn't hear me? Sorry," I clear my throat. "I hear that you once threw—"

"Yeah, I heard you the first time. Listen," Haru, who after much struggle I learned that was his name, leans on his left elbow and points his right index finger at me. His brow cocks up as he suspiciously asks me, "Are you going to buy ice cream or what?"

"You still never answered my questions." I flip the page on my notepad to the beginning, getting nervous that my interview is just going to fail miserably. "Would you like me to repeat them for you?"

"No, what I would like is for you to get out of the line so that the other kids can order."

I have some kids behind me, some my age and some not, yelling at me to get out of the line so they can order. My pride is slowly being shattered as I continue to ignore the heckling, but I must stay strong. I slap my hands on the small counter attached to the window of the truck.

"This will just be a minute!" I plead.

"I'm hungry!" One girl whines, adding a few extra exaggerated moans of her unneeded starvation. She sighs, she growls, she makes wordless sounds that even I can't identify—not that I even want to, which is why I don't turn around.

Haru glares at me as he hisses, "Look at what you're doing. You're ruining my business here. Get out of the line and let me do my job."

"I swear! Just a few questions, _please._"

"No."

It's time to bring out the blackmail.

"Okay, you fucking bastard, you want to play dirty? I got a tape of that incident of when you threw that ice cream cone at the boy, whose name is _Hachiro_, and if you don't answer these questions, guess where this tape is going?"

For dramatic effects, I hold up a tape, which is actually blank… but Haru doesn't have to know that. I have no idea if Haru actually threw an ice cream cone at Hachiro. I don't even know who the hell Hachiro _is. _But I'm desperate. My deadline for the school newspaper is tomorrow and I don't have a story. The best I can do at such short notice is the ice cream man.

The ice cream man, Haru, is known to be a fairly creepy seventeen-year-old in which he always managed to come to this street at 4:59 PM. There really isn't a name for this street anymore because a year ago, some kid stole the street sign. Eventually, people forgot what the name of the street was called and the government just never supplied the street with a new sign. Some people tried to make alternative signs in hopes to have the name come back, but it failed miserably when people began to argue on what the original name was. It's fine though, since well… not many streets in Japan even _have_ names, but who really takes that into consideration?

(To tell you the truth, I looked it up when I was volunteering in my dad's work—the police station—and there was never a name. It was just a number, but again, who really cares?)

Anyways, apparently the locals just refer to the street as "4:59-er Street" because Haru always comes at 4:59 PM to sell ice cream. Usually it's a five minute deal since everyone knows when he comes, but I'm… sort of ruining that with this interview. So, as I am still holding the blank tape in my hands, I smile when I see that Haru is falling for the bait.

"Fine. Make it quick."

"Okay!" I put the tape away. "Question number one: Why is it that you always come at 4:59-er Street at _exactly_ 4:59 PM?"

"I just happen to drive like that, okay?"

"I see…" I jot that down. "Okay. Now, is being an ice cream man _really_ such a great job?"

"Not now it isn't."

"But it usually is?"

"No."

"What has made this job so—"

"Why are you interviewing me anyway? I'm just some guy who needs to make cash! I'm not—"

"_Why_ do you need to make cash?" I lean in, "For the drugs? Sex? Some lover you rather not share?"

"What? _No!_"

"Are you gay?"

"Stop this! I'm not gay!"

"Right," I jot more notes down on my notepad while reading them aloud, "Not… gay…" I look up, "Do you do it for the ladies?"

"…Get out of the line!"

_**Daisuke**_

"Didn't do so well on the interview today, Saehara?"

Takeshi had plopped himself at the booth seat across with me only to drop his head to the table in his arms, while still holding his notepad in his hands. So, it's safe to assume that the interview wasn't good, especially when he moaned, "What did I do to deserve this…?"

Poking him, I try to cheer up him.

"Oh come on, it couldn't have been that bad…"

"No…" He picks his head up slightly, where his chin is now resting on his right arm, and replies further, "I got some things from him, but all I can make a story from my notes is: "ICE CREAM MAN IS LOCAL ASSHOLE." Otherwise, I got nothing."

Hoping to get some help, I look over to Satoshi. He's sitting next to me reading _David Copperfield_ non-translated. Since he went to college in the States, I guess it's only natural that he knows English very well. I've never heard him speak it before, though.

"What do you make out of it, Hiwatari?"

He looks up from his book and uses his index finger to do his signature move: push his glasses up to get a better look at us.

"What's that, Niwa?"

"Oh, you weren't paying attention…" I sigh, turning back to Takeshi. "Well… there has to be an interesting story, right?"

_/Like me, for instance./_

_Mom hasn't made another note yet, and besides… you get enough attention as it is._

_/There is no limits to my fame./_

"No…" Takeshi finally picks his head up, taking out a menu from its holder and looking through it. We're in an ice cream parlor, which I probably shouldn't have picked considering Takeshi's situation. Takeshi then realizes this after looking at the choices and throws the menu at the glass window next to us.

"Dark hasn't been stealing lately—and he was my main source! Now I have to go back to my bogus "GIRL TRIPS OVER ROCK" stories."

"Those were quite amusing though." I smile.

"But no one took me seriously," He pouts. "I want to be a _reporter_, not some comedian. Where's the action? Where's the drama? Where's the _romance_! There's _nothing_ in Azumano! _Nothing!_"

"—but the ice cream man," Satoshi points out.

"You know how sick and tired I am of reporting the same damn thing?"

Takeshi, grabbing the attention of both Satoshi and I, theatrically mimics his newspaper articles before us in such disdain, it's almost heartbreaking to see him… basically insult himself. He stops, sighing as he leans his head on his palm, "And the ice cream man is nothing but some self-centered, teenaged _asshole_, who can't take some few minutes out of his life to answer some questions."

Dramatically, he dunks his head.

"What am I going to do…?"

"Oh the tragedy," Satoshi rolls his eyes. "What ever shall the town citizens of Azumano do without the life of the ice cream man?"

"Well… There are other stories…" I suggest.

"Like what?" Takeshi asks, not really interested since by this point, he's lost all hope.

"Um… Well… Hey! Isn't there going to be a new movie scene here?"

"Keiji Saga is back," Satoshi confirms as he flips another page in his book. "That's the third time in the past six months."

"My deadline is _tomorrow_." Takeshi runs a hand through his hair as he nervously, yet desperately, confesses, "I need something _now_."

"Well…" Unsure of what to say, I scratch the back of my held. I was never really good at coming up with ideas since that was usually Takeshi's endowment. I'm just the supporting friend—the positive one, you know?

"What information do you have on the friend?" I ask, hoping maybe I could work off those details if any existed.

Takeshi flips a few pages in his notepad and reads aloud to us, "Ice cream man: Hokkaido Haru, age seventeen. Always arrive at 4:59-er Street at exactly 4:59 PM. Works for cash purposes; purposes unknown. Not gay. Once threw an ice cream cone at an eight-year-old at a boy named Hachiro (don't know last name), reasons unknown. Doesn't like interviews."

Grinning fairly pathetically, I suggest the only thing I could suggest.

"Make a story out of that?"

**ICE CREAM MAN: MYSTERY MAN?**

Every day at approximately 4:59 PM, Hokkaido Haru, the local ice cream man, drives to 4:59-er Street for his daily route to sell popsicles and ice cream cones to children of all ages. Yet, why exactly does he always arrive at 4:59-er Street at 4:59 PM? Who is the local ice cream man that we've come to see day after day?

Dedicated to Hokkaido's uncanny ability to arrive at said street at the exact same time day after day, 4:59-er Street has come to know Hokkaido as the local ice cream man for an entire year now, when Hokkaido started driving at the age of sixteen. In hopes to make money, Hokkaido took the job offer and has since gained his righteous spot in the town of Azumano.

"He's kind of creepy, though," said Harada Risa, a second-year attendee of Azumano Middle. "One time, he glared at me, but I didn't know why, though."

Hokkaido has also gained the reputation of being a bit of an anti-socialite, a defying nature to the stereotypical, friendly ice cream man most people would imagine. Neighbors of 4:59-er Street suggest that it's a "stage" in his life, being seventeen and all, and excuse some of his behavior. However, Hokkaido is still being observed closely by parents due to the incidents when he has expressed his temper.

"He threw some ice cream cone at some kid's head once," said 10-year-old, Miyagi Seto. That victim's name shall be disclosed for privacy reasons.

There is no definite reason as to _why_ the victim was attacked by an ice cream cone, but there also isn't a definite reason as to why Hokkaido continues to hold the job of an ice cream man. Stating he does it for the money, but not denying that it might be for "the ladies," Hokkaido definitely confirms that he is Azumano's average straight, mone-searching kid.

_**Takeshi**_

"SAEHARA."

Committing mental suicide, I shyly turn my head around to face Kanagawa-sensei. Considering Dark hasn't been stealing anything for a few weeks, my stories have been lacking incredibly. Then again, Kanagawa-sensei only liked my Phantom Thief stories… He never did appreciate the small things that are Azumano.

"Yes, Sensei…?"

"What is this?"

I cringe when I am approached by his tall figure, and almost squeak (almost) when he slams my report on my desk. I'm guessing he didn't like it…

"It's my report, Sensei," I answer.

"Yes, I realize that." He picks up the report and reads a line from it, "Hokkaido has also gained the reputation of being a bit of an anti-socialite." And another. "…still being observed closely by parents due to… his _temper_?" And… another… "…_attacked_ by an _ice cream cone?_ Saehara, what do you take me for?"

"Well, Kanagawa-sensei, I can explain—"

"Then explain."

Oh shit. I wasn't expecting that.

"Um, well, I," I look over to Hadae, the senior editor of the features' section, for help, but she only shrugs helplessly while wording _'you're on your own this time'_ at me.

"You _what_, Saehara?"

"Well… Well he wouldn't cooperate!" I can't save myself, can I? "I tried to get a decent interview, but he wouldn't answer my questions. The guy is a jerk."

Kanagawa-sensei crosses his arms, pointing to the wall with the Code of Laws for our journalism class. He then points specifically at No. 8, when he then has me mentally read to myself, "_No person shall blame the interviewee for a bad article. Bad interviews are at the fault of a bad interviewer._"

Dunking my head in shame, I whisper, "I'm sorry, Kanagawa-sensei…"

"What is with you?" His voice goes soft as the once-furrowed black brows start to ease. "Saehara, you have the _potential_ to write _great_ articles. I've seen it in every one of your Phantom Thief reports."

"I know…"

"Yet, once Dark is gone, I get this." He slaps my report. "I get crap."

"I'm trying! There just… isn't anything good to tell in Azumano."

"Oh? Then why is it that Miyasaki over there gives me excellent articles every week?"  
Miyasaki, that blond narcissist, takes the cue to rush up to Kanagawa-sensei with his fresh article "AZUMANO ORCHESTRA SCORES SUPERIOR."

…Damn him and his school spirit.

Fucking nerd.

"Excellent work, Miyasaki." Kanagawa-sensei then sternly stares at me, catching me glaring at Miyasaki. He says, "Now, Saehara, why is it that you can't report on the school?"

"Miyasaki reports the school. I'm the investigative reporter of the town, remember? I have to do… local news."

"Well, let's take a recap of your articles. Before this, there was…"

**MOCHI MOCHI BAKERY: LARGEST COOKIE**

Well, ladies and gentlemen, Oita Hiroshi and Komiko have finally done it. They've managed to bake an 8 ft. 3 in. cookie, the largest cookie to the record, at Mochi Mochi Bakery on Tuesday, March 23, 2004.

**OLD WOMAN ATTACKED BY PIGEONS**

On Saturday, March 12, 2004, Yamanashi Keiko, an elderly woman, was viciously attacked by pigeons when she attempted to eat her popcorn herself. She currently has a few cuts on her arm, but no major injuries.

**LEAP FROGS FOR LEAP YEAR  
**

Due to actions of Animal Rights activist, Saitama Yusuke, 19 leap frogs were escaped from the PetSmart on February 29, 2004, creating a local uproar. Saitama is in custody, waiting for charges.

**BROKEN HEARTS ON V-DAY**

_Azumano: _25 heart-shaped vases fell off the shelves of Walgreens due to a freak mop accident.

**SEXU—**

"Okay. I get it. My articles suck."

"Listen, maybe I should assign you a new position. Perhaps investigative reporting isn't your—"

"No!" I grab Kanagawa-sensei's shirt, pleading. "No, I'll try harder! I'll try to find better stories! I promise!"

"Why don't you try out the weather—?"

"You've _got_ to be kidding me."

Looking over at Gunma, the weather guy, I notice he's sleeping soundly next to the monitor he's _supposed_ to be watching for updates. Hadae taps his shoulder to get the weather for this week's newspaper, making Gunma jump and shout, "Sunny! It's gonna be sunny!"

"There is no _way_ I'm doing the _weather._"

"Perhaps a column?"

"Columns are never about the news," I whine. "Sensei, please… Give me another chance."

"I've given you plenty of chances. You know what happens when I give you chances?" He points at my report, "I get reports bashing the ice cream man."

"He was a jerk…"

"You don't _bash_ the ice cream man, Saehara!"

"Well, what do you want me to do?"

"I expect a column topic. You can chose an investigative column topic if you wish, but a column topic nonetheless. It has to be worth _ten_ weeks."

"But—"

"You may do side stories of news and if I like them, I'll print them. For now, if you don't make up a column, you're going to _fail_ this class, Saehara."

Sighing, I nod my head.

"Yes, Kanagawa-sensei…"

What the hell was I going to write about for _ten weeks?_

_**Daisuke**_

"A column, huh?"

Takeshi groans, clearly unhappy that for the second night in a row, he has to brainstorm for an article idea. I don't really see what the grand benefits of being a reporter are. Every time I see Takeshi or hear him talk about his journalism class, he's always worried about deadlines or rushing things because he has to write his report in two hours or less. He's so hectic. I don't know how he can handle it.

"I can't do a political article because Hadae has one."

"What about a local news column—like, quirky story of the week?"

"I asked about that, but Kanagawa-sensei says it has to be a serious article."

"A serious one?"

"Well, not like drama-serious, but more of something that I _know_ I can do for ten weeks. I have to have a stable column."

"Those are hard to come up with."

"Yeah… Everyone took the good ideas. There aren't many options I can choose from."

Satoshi arrives, sitting down at our bench and joining us for lunch while Takeshi continues to sulk out his miseries. Takeshi always had the tendency to eat fast when he grew nervous or anxious, so I had to keep a look out for any sudden choking considering Takeshi had made himself plenty of onigiri.

"I'm going to fail that class," Takeshi shoves another rice ball into his mouth, "Anhf," He swallows. "And I _love_ that class."

"Another journalistic crisis?" Satoshi opens his lunchbox, which doesn't really contain much. I assume Takeshi took notice of this because he dumped two of his rice balls in Satoshi's lunch box.

"Yeah." He also doesn't leave room for Satoshi to say a 'thank you.'

Just then, two girls approach us. One of them is blushing while the other, the one reaching out to tap Satoshi's shoulder, is slightly giggling.

"Um, H-Hiwatari?"

"Hmm?" Satoshi faces them, lifting one of Takeshi's rice balls to his mouth. (I noticed him whisper "thank you" just before he turned around, but I don't think Takeshi did.)

"Well, my friend, uh… my friend, Rei, was wondering if you… if you were single."

_/And another victim of Commander's cold heart meets her doom…/_

"Yes, I am." Satoshi then adds, "But I am not looking, sorry."

"Oh. Well, um, thank you anyways."

The two girls walk away, one of which has sniffles.

"Man, Hiwatari," Takeshi elbows Satoshi, "Be a bit colder next time, why don't you? Didn't even give the girl a chance."

Satoshi simply eats the second rice ball he received and shrugs.

"Bastard…" Takeshi playfully nudges Satoshi, who simply replies, "What harm does it do to me?"

"What if she was your soul mate?"

"She wasn't."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

Giving up the argument, Takeshi brings up another topic, "Why _don't_ you date girls, anyway?" He smirks right after and adds, "Like boys instead?"

"Saehara!" I blush, nervously eyeing Takeshi for his absurd remark.

_/I wouldn't be surprised if Creepy Boy was gay./_

_Don't call him gay! He just isn't into dating._

_/Ah, Daisuke, it's nice to know there are naïve little boys like you still left to soil./_

…_That was uncalled for._

"Come on, Hiwatari," With a cocky tone, Takeshi maneuvers his hands as if to present Satoshi with an imaginary balancing beam. "Do you dig the holes or the poles?"

Silence.

"Was that necessary?" Satoshi glares.

Now laughing, Takeshi waves off Satoshi's annoyance and says, "Sorry—couldn't resist!"

"Yes, well, my sexuality isn't of your concern."

"Oh, what's this? A vague sentence? Hmm… What is going on in the genius's head?"

"My utter hatred for you."

No longer laughing, Takeshi takes Satoshi's lunchbox away from him.

"I want my rice balls back."

"I ate them."

"You bastard! Why did you eat my food?!"

"You gave them to me."

"That's _besides _the point and you _know it._"

_/They bicker often, don't they?./_

_Yeah, generally. They're kind of funny together, though._

_/Together?./_

_Not like that._

"Fine," Takeshi pouts. "Rice-ball-eater."

"Again, you gave them—"

"Don't bring up evidence that can support you," Takeshi hisses. "Have you even _been_ on a date?"

"What does that have to do with the rice balls?"

"Absolutely nothing. Now, answer the question."

"No."

"You haven't?"

"No, 'no' as in I won't answer the question."

"Oh."

_/How long do they usually do this?./_

_Until the bell rings. I take it as a show for my lunch. _

"So," But all things must come to an end. "Saehara, your column?"

"Oh snap!" Takeshi goes back to groaning. "I completely forgot about that…"

"I take it you still have no idea what you're going to write?"

He nods.

"I'm screwed, aren't I?"

"I wouldn't say that." I smile. "You always come up with something. Just come up with some crazy idea that everyone will read."

_**Takeshi**_

Tuesday, 3:29 AM

Like being shot from a canon ball, I sit upright on my bed.

"I GOT IT!"

Tuesday, 10:31 AM

"…What?"

Eagerly, I nod at Kanagawa-sensei and proceed to explain my idea, "Yeah! I can pull it off!"

"Since when were you gay?"

I blink.

"What?"

"You can't seriously tell me you completely disregarded the fact that you are a guy."

"Oh," I did… "Well, uh, it's the article that counts—and, and, if I have to be gay for ten weeks, I'll do it."

"You can't _just_ 'be gay' like it's some sort of on and off switch, Saehara."

"Why not?"

"You're involving another person, Saehara. Ever consider that?"

"It's Hiwatari."

"What if he falls for you?"

"Pfft. Like that would happen," I say. "Listen, Sensei, I'll make it clear to him this is for an article. An article to show what it's like to date the infamous Hiwatari Satoshi! Girls will read in hopes to woo the school genius!"

"—and gay boys will think they actually have a chance at Hiwatari. I don't think this is such a good idea."

"Sensei, it's a _great_ idea. Who has ever seen the robot date? No one. But that changes now! I, Saehara Takeshi, will become Hiwatari's boyfriend for ten weeks and show all the true nature of who he is—show the _human_ side of the genius."

"Wait," Hadae walked over to Kanagawa-sensei and me, "You're going to date_ Hiwatari_?"

"Yeah."

"Saehara, I didn't approve of this yet. Did you even ask your _parents_ if you could date another _boy?_"

Smiling nervously, I reply, "Well… I'm sure my dad will understand… if I say it's for… school purposes."

He crosses his arms.

"Of course, because it's perfectly normal for a boy to 'go gay' for ten weeks if it's for _school._"

"Well, I'm _sorry_ I wasn't born a girl, Sensei, but I'm not going to let some bitch take my idea just because it's more publicly acceptable. We're mature. We can handle the homosexuality, and damn it, I'm doing this article."

Just then, Kanagawa-sensei points back at the _Code of Laws,_ but this time at No. 2, which states, "_No one shall use profanity. Profanity is the definite evidence of lack of vocabulary. Bad vocabulary results in bad articles._"

"…Sorry, Sensei, but… My dad isn't important. My sexuality isn't important. What's important is that I write this article. I will change the lives of all of Azumano Middle school girls!"

"—and boys." Sensei adds.

Hadae grows excited, "Wait, Hiwatari's gay then?"

"Um… I don't know."

"Well, if you're going to be his boyfriend, you have to do all the boyfriend stuff! You can't just _date_ him, Saehara. You have to be his boyfriend. Kisses and hugs and all the intimacy. Oh, _awesome!_ Our newspaper will be killer!"

My eyes widened.

"Kissing…?"

Turning to Kanagawa-sensei for assistance, I was shot down with, "It's _your_ article."

"Oh! And you'll have to be real descriptive too!"

Oh dear Lord… What did I just get myself into?

_**Satoshi**_

Today I'm sitting at a table next to Daisuke. Takeshi is a bit late, which is slightly odd for him. He's usually out here earlier than us in hopes of finding a story. Yet, as I sip my carton of milk, I see from the corner of my eye that Takeshi is insecurely walking over to us, mumbling to himself.

Something's up.

_/Feeling nervous, my love?./_

_Not now, Krad._

He stops walking suddenly and whispers violently to himself as if he were scolding himself, then stands straight and nods. Now he's confident. Of what? I've yet to know.

"Saehara looks strange," I put my carton down. "Something happen today, Niwa?"

"Um… I don't know. I didn't see Takeshi this morning and after second period, he rushed right to his journalism class. He must have had a good idea for his column."

Niwa smiles.

"That's good, right?"

"I suppose…"

Takeshi approaches us, sitting down across from me at the table with his lunchbox and notepad. He pulls out a pencil, getting ready to jot something down, when he abruptly stares at me. Taking my milk up to my mouth in hopes of avoiding answering a question, I wait for Takeshi to greet himself.

"Hiwatari," He says instead. "Want to go out on a date?"

_**Takeshi**_

As my habit is strong, I read out loud what I write, "Don't ask… when Satoshi… drinks… Might… get… milk… spit on… face."

Wiping my face with a napkin, I wait for Satoshi to calm down.

"Ex—Excuse me?"

"Uh, yeah," I laugh. "You wanna go out?"

Daisuke's eyes are wider than watermelons right now, that I almost feel sorry I didn't explain my plan to him earlier.

"What's the catch?"

"Holy shit! That's almost a yes!" I beam. "You mean you have a _possible_ chance of going out with me?"

Okay. That sounded a lot more obsessed than I wanted it to…

"No, the answer is no." Damn. "I just would like to know what is the sudden… well, sudden liking."

"Oh, it's not that." I smirk, "Trying to get cocky there, huh? It's my column idea. I got it approved and everything."

"Excuse me?"

"TEN WEEKS WITH SATOSHI HIWATARI!" Silence. "Okay, so I'm still working on the title, but you get the idea. Satoshi, my _darling,_ I would like _you_ to be the main topic of _my _column."

Hold on…

Almost there…

I think I got him…

"You're fucking nuts."

…And I lost him.

"Oh come on, Hiwatari!" I hold up my lunchbox full of Satoshi's favorite rice balls (I've taken notice that he loves the one with teriyaki beef). "I got riiiiiiiice baaaaaalls!"

"Rice balls will not convince me for ten weeks."

"They have teriyaki beef."

"That doesn't make a difference."

"I could've sworn it would convince you for at least one week…"

_**Satoshi**_

12:39 PM

"Please."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"Please."

"_No._"

1:23 PM

"I'll pay you!"

"I don't need money."

"Ten thousand yen a week!"

"Do you even _have_ that much money?"

"…Uh… A thousand yen a week!"

"No."

2:42 PM

"Let go of me, Saehara."

"You have to date me. I know I look, sound, and am acting obsessed, but I'm serious, Hiwatari. You and I: Made to be boyfriends for this article's success."

_/Insistent one, isn't he?./_

_Shut up._

3:32 PM

"Pleeeeeeeeeease!"

"No! Saehara! Go home!"

"Hiwatari," Saehara slams the door behind him, entering my apartment. "I don't think you are seeing the seriousness in my passion for reporting. If my column is about me dating the hottest boy in our school, then damn it, I'm going to date the hottest boy in school. Now, what do you want? You want to have sex?"

…Where the hell did that come from?

Even I could tell that Takeshi had no idea what he was doing when he propped himself on my computer desk and spread his legs. He sounded slightly uncomfortable, definitely afraid, but desperate all at once when he said, "Come on, Hiwatari. I'm serious."

"You're willing… to have sex… for a _school_ article?"

"Well, at least it's with someone I trust—somewhat."

"Have you done this before?"

"No! I'm…" He blushes. "I'm a virgin."

"Good grief," I close his legs. "You're willing to lose your _virginity _over a school article?"

_/My, my, Satoshi-sama. You capture the hearts of every being, don't you?./_

_Must I repeatedly ask you to be quiet?_

"Well…" Takeshi finally gives up. "What do you _want_ from me, Hiwatari? I need to pass my class! All I'm asking is to be your boyfriend for ten weeks. I just have to make a weekly report of what it's like and then I change the lives of girls and boys and then I finally get respected by Kanagawa-sensei, maybe even get to promote myself from newspaper reporter to televised reporter and… and…" Takeshi mewls, "I'm a failure."

He gets up from the computer desk, heading for the door.

"I don't know what I was thinking… Sorry for wasting your time, Hiwatari…"

Damn him.

Sighing, I call out to him.

"Wait."

_**Takeshi**_

Smirking, I still have my back facing him. Yes! You can always rely on the good "pity me" to get what you want.

"Y-Yes…?" I sniff, preparing the tears to bawl out on cue.

"Saehara," He sounds reluctant. "You have no idea how insane you are."

"Desperate," I weakly correct. "Just ten weeks…"

"What do I get out of this?"

"Whatever…" I try not to smile as I look at him over my shoulder. "Whatever you want."

"And I can change my mind about what I want whenever?"

"Yes, yes, of course."

Looking away, he thinks to himself.

"I swear I'm going to hate myself for this."

Fall for the guilt…

Fall for the guilt…

"I'm not sure what I want right now."

"That's okay," I assure. "Take your time."

Hold on…

Almost there…

I think I…

"Fine," He holds out his hand for me to shake, which I do. "I'll do it."

Got him.

**linebreakerlisteningtoauralvampirewhichisnowanewloveinmusicformesinceiamaveryhardcoretechnoindustrailanythingwithbeepsfan**

Schizo: I'm trying to get back into fanfiction(dot)net again a lot more frequently since I'm noticing that what fanfiction(dot)net was two years ago... isn't what it is today. I kind of miss it. Oh well. I'll stay strong with my passion for writing instead of hunger for reviews.

But that doesn't mean you shouldn't review. -eyes you all- I see the hits charts... Thousands, bitches. I see you all.

So do a girl a favor, please? Review.

Cheers -Steph


	2. Stage 1: The First Date

Schizo: So… I wrote this thing off a whim, not expecting much reviews, but _man! _The _feedback! _I'm _so_ glad you all are liking this story (and hopefully will continue) and I'm also _psyched_ that you all are beginning to delve into the world of SatoshixTakeshi.

I don't know… I saw them and thought: Yeah. It can work. Definitely.

I don't own D N Angel or Tori-komachi.

**linebreakerthereisshellfishflyingintheairdominatingthewordofjellyandpeanutbutterandmakingsandwichesoutoftunabecausetunaisthebomb**

**I LIKE BRAINS**

_A Column by Takeshi Saehara_

Admit it.

You've all thought about what it's like to date him.

You know who I'm talking about… Mister Satoshi Hiwatari.

Ah, yes…

Satoshi Hiwatari is a teenaged boy we've all seen walk the halls of Azumano Middle, modestly (but surely not quietly) accepting the title of the school's genius and, well… let's get it out there already: The _hottest_ boy in school. He makes girls swoon by simply asking for a pencil. He causes boys to have to constantly go to the bathroom—and they don't use the bathroom, folks. He is the reason for most people's heartache.

Why?

_Because he doesn't date anyone!_

How shall anyone know what makes him tick? What does he like in a girl? Or perhaps… in a _guy? _Is he a passionate lover? A timid one? A cold one? A lovely one? Does he rush into the "best part" of the relationship or does he take it slow? Does he cause surprises that can change your life forever?

WHAT IS HE LIKE?

I'm going to find out.

Yes, people. I, Takeshi Saehara, will find out. I know, I know. Girls are screaming for their poor lives, guys are now cursing me out for being the first, and everyone is slowly registering the fact that I, a boy, managed to get a date with _the_ Satoshi Hiwatari. Well, I have even better news.

I have an entire _ten weeks_ of dates with _the _Satoshi Hiwatari.

And I'm going to tell you _all _about it.

Stay tuned, shall we?

_**Takeshi**_

"I… Like… _Brains?_"

Wednesday, 12:33 PM

I shrug my shoulders as I dump two rice balls in Satoshi's lunchbox as it's my routine habit (that boy needs to eat, damn it), followed by stealing one of his strawberry-flavored mochi. He glares at me for a good few seconds until I smile back with my smooth reply, "Why thank you, sweetie."

"I agreed to be your boyfriend, not your food provider."

"Hey," Stabbing him lightly with the chopsticks, I defensively say, "I give you food _everyday, _you ungrateful bastard. I'm allowed to steal some ice cream every now and then, _okay?_"

Rolling his eyes, he points back at Daisuke, who initiated a conversation with the implied insult on the name of my column. Smirking, I shrug again. I mean, I didn't have that much of a reason. Satoshi's smart. I'm dating him now. It's my column. There. I Like Brains.

"I don't know," I say. "I guess it felt appropriate at the time."

Satoshi, while eating one of my rice balls, grimaces slightly before admitting, "I'm not too sure if I'm comfortable doing this article anymore."

"Oh no," I point at him. "We made a _deal_, okay? You told me that if I gave you whatever you wanted from this, you'd be my boyfriend for ten weeks."

"You don't have this on paper. You have no proof that I agreed to this."

"That's where you're mistaken…"

_**Satoshi**_

Even Daisuke was as shocked as I was when Takeshi pulled out a tape recorder. That sneaky little bitch recorded our conversation yesterday. What happened to him being that poor, depressed, little boy? Hmm? What happened to the _damn_ damsel in distress?

_/It seems, my dear, that he fooled you yesterday./_

"I can't believe you…"

Incredulously staring at him, my fears are granted when I hear our voices seal the deal of our relationship. I look away, meeting Daisuke's eyes, which aren't comforting at all. In fact, he looks almost amused by this entire situation, as if this was the highlight of his everyday life—even though that's impossible being the host of the famous kaitou and all.

"I'm sorry, but every good reporter knows to record anything for their articles. We're not allowed to quote anything if we don't tell the person, of course, but if it's a verbal contract… Well, we'd have to be idiots if we _didn't_ record it. You know, as to avoid _people like you_ bailing out of the deal."

"He has a point," Daisuke adds. Clearly Daisuke is more than just my nightly enemy.

"Thank you, Niwa."

Takeshi then proceeds to dig into his backpack and pull out a day planner. It's pretty packed, with Post-It notes sticking out and everything. There are coupons inside, business cards just barely keeping their places between certain dates, and from what I can read while Takeshi is flipping to our date, much scribbling of events. Yet… Today's the first day in April, a day most people are cautious on for obvious reasons, so… it's a bit of a wonder as to why the day planner seems to be filled in for more than this year's first five months.

"I never imagined you being a day-planner sort of guy." I say.

"Hmm?"

Takeshi looks up, registers what I just said, and blushes, clearing forgetting that he has the reputation of being a fairly unorganized person. Daisuke nods in agreement, pointing at the day planner, emphasizing both his and my shock that Takeshi even _owns_ one. Takeshi shifts eyes, mentally trying to come up with some sort of excuse, and ends up saying, "Well, um, I'm actually kind of… neat. I know reporters generally are not the neatest people, but if I don't keep track of what I'm doing or what I have, I don't know where anything is and that'll be a Hell of a pain for me trying to explain to everyone where I keep my stuff. It looks like I have a mess, but really, it's like this unorthodox tidiness. _You_ may not know where I keep my things, but I do."

He perks up, "For instance, I have my homework assignment on the psychology of Hitler's mind, which is mainly on the study of his extreme paranoid and deeply restrained homosexual tendencies, kept in my science folder even though it's a homework assignment for my world history course. Well, it makes sense because the assignment mainly has to do with psychology, which is a mental _science_; thus, it's in the _science_ folder."

Daisuke, worried, then asks, "When is that due? Tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"So, yeah, leave me and my stuff alone, Satoshi."

There's a brief silence as all three of us settle with the fact that Takeshi just used my first name. I suppose it makes sense. We are supposedly dating each other and we should get used to using first names with each other instead of our surnames, but it's still just a little odd.

"Now, I have planned out our entire relationship."

"Shouldn't we just let it go naturally?"

He cocks a brow.

"Right… because you totally wanted to be my boyfriend on your own choice, not because of the fact that I'm bribing you."

_/This boy is quite amusing. I'd like to see more of his treatment towards you./_

_So your sadistic nature can thrive from his?_

_/Well, not from his per se. He said he was a virgin. I fancy his easygoing nature when it comes to insulting you, however./_

_Of course you do._

"Well," Daisuke chips in, "Hiwatari has a point. Won't the relationship seem fake if it's entirely planned out?"

"It's just events and some stages of the relationship I want scheduled out. I have to write an _article_ here, you know. I need it to be a little juicy or it's gonna turn into a flop."

"All right, whatever." I roll my eyes. "Just get on with it."

He beams, "Okay. First off, our first date will be this Friday at—"

"Can't."

"What? What do you mean you can't?"

"We both can't." Reluctantly, I remind him, "Don't you remember? The annual Japanese Police party is this Friday, and the both of us are required to be there, being the sons of fairly important people there—plus, I'm getting a reward."

"A reward?"

"Yes," I nod. "For my achievements as commander of the agency."

"Wait," Takeshi looks shocked at me, "You're the _commander?_"

"Yes… I thought you knew."

"I knew you worked with my dad, but I thought you worked _for_ my dad, not the other way around!" He moans, "Shit… This isn't going to be easy when I bring up you to my dad…"

"You haven't told your father that you are going to date me?"

"…I was going to…"

It just caught my attention that Daisuke might feel left out in the conversation. Takeshi seems to have that little habit with me when in a conversation: He dominates it. Though, now that I peer over to Daisuke to check up on him, he seems fine. Still looking as though this is the highlight of his life.

_**Daisuke**_

_/You don't feel even a __**little**__ jealous that they're dating?./_

_Nope._

_/Not even a little?./_

_Nothing._

_/Come on…/_

_No. I'm fine. It's kinda fun, actually. They're always fighting, but now they're dating._

_/No, Daisuke, that isn't fun. That's more of… Hmm, well, it's a bit sexy, actually./_

_We're fourteen!_

_/So? Kids grow up fast these days./_

_I'm not continuing this._

_/You know what boys do with boys?./_

_I'm not listening to this._

_/One gets on their knees…/_

_Stop it!_

_/The other gets on top…/_

_I mean it, Dark!_

_/And then…/_

_I'm not listening! I'm not listening! Say all you want because I'm not listening!_

_/You're too easy, Dai./_

Takeshi sighs, "Fine… I guess we have to go then. I really hate those parties."

"And you think I don't?" Satoshi eats the second rice ball of Takeshi's before continuing, "Be thankful you don't have to respond to idiotic officers about cases they should have solved on their _own_."

"Be thankful you don't have to get hit on from them."

Silence.

"Yeah," Takeshi nods. "You wouldn't think so, but they're a bunch of pervs, I tell you."

"I never noticed."

"Stick around me in the party and you'll see." He smirks, "I always feel like screaming 'rape' in those parties, but then I remember I'm in a party full of cops and then I realize that maybe that's not a good idea…"

They're getting off topic again.

"So, when are you and Satoshi going on your first date?"

Sometimes I feel like that's my job around these two… to bring them back to their initial topic. They always seem to go off into a tangent, forgetting completely about what they were originally talking about, which is okay sometimes, but they're growing a habit. One time they were discussing on what their science project was only to end up debating the importance of realizing the difference between condensed milk and evaporated milk because, as Takeshi's point was, they are two very different things and should not be replaced for one another in recipes.

"Oh! Right!" Takeshi flips the pages in his day planner only to resort back to today, Wednesday, and confirms, "Well, then I guess we'll have to go out today. Tomorrow we can't because one, I have a lot of homework I have to do on Thursday—oh, which by the way, Satoshi?"

"Yes?"

"Can you help me on my chemistry? I'm not exactly understanding the difference between a… oh shit, what was that word? Um… the thing."

"The thing."

"Yeah, the chemical thing."

"It's chemistry. There are a _lot_ of chemical things."

"The s-thing."

"The… element, sulfur?"

"No… I remember the elements. I'm talking about… oh, what the hell was it? The… The… The solstice? No. No, that wasn't it."

"Well, whatever it is, sure. Clearly you do need help in chemistry. I'll have to do some things at home first, but I'll drop by."

"Thanks." Takeshi then looked down at his day planner, "And two, nobody dates on Thursdays anyway. Friday, we have the party. Saturday, we have to do those volunteer hours for that Eco-friendly fair Riku arranged."

"Oh, right," I nod. "Harada-san is trying to build up money."

"For what?" Takeshi asks.

"For the economy club."

"But…" Takeshi blinks. "We're not _in_ the economy club."

"That's not the point. We're Riku's friends and we're obligated to help her do things if we don't have plans no matter what. It's a contract everyone signs when making friends."

"I wasn't aware that I had made friends in the first place," Satoshi says.

"Well, apparently you did."

Takeshi accepts the idea, going to Sunday's plans, "And Sunday, I have to write the first article—besides the promo—for my column, so I don't want to do anything on that day, which also means that I have to have the first date before Monday because that's when the article is _due._ Yup, so today it is. You have plans, Satoshi?"

"Not exactly…"

"Good!"

_/Not that he had a choice either…/_

_Nope._

"We're going to go to Tori-komachi."

"That Yakitori restaurant in Hara?"

"Mm-hmm," Takeshi nods, crossing out Friday's plans and putting them in Wednesday's. "That's the place."

"Why? Isn't it a bit small?"

He blushes at Satoshi's comment. Being his best friend, I knew in advance that Takeshi was volunteering his favorite restaurant for the first date. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? For a relationship he's only participating in for school, that's a pretty personal choice to make for a first date's location. Favorite restaurants chosen for first dates usually mean the person actually considered the date seriously.

"Yeah, I know," Takeshi answers, "but it's a really good place for Yakitori, trust me. Plus, I have a coupon."

Or maybe because he has a coupon…

"A coupon."

"We're teenagers. Teenagers are allowed to use coupons. I don't exactly have a lot of money, you know."

"I could pay for my dinner."

"No. I'm going to be a gentleman on our first date."

"I am not going to be the female in this relationship."

"Oh, _oh._" Takeshi rolls his eyes, "That is _so_ sexist of you, Satoshi. Honestly. Who said females can't pay for the dinners instead of the guys?"

"No one, but you said 'gentleman' implying that I am the 'lady.' I do not—"

"Women can't be gentlemen?"

"No. They are the ladies."

"Lesbians, Satoshi! Lesbians! How can you have two ladies together when they're lesbians?"

"I'm not even going to correct that sentence, but easy: If there is a gentleman, then there is a lady."

"Why can't there be _two_ gentlemen? Hmm? That's what we _are_, Satoshi."

"Because then we'd be going Dutch or brutally fighting against each other on who is going to pay the bill."

"Which will be me."

"No, it will be _me_. I am not explaining the damn gentleman-lady thing again."

"Fine. You want to pay? Then pay."

"All right."

"All the time."

"All—excuse me?"

"You're the gentleman and I'm the la—"

"Oh, don't use that bullshit on me. You sneaky little bitch… You're trying to have me pay for everything now?" 

_/Okay, I get what you mean that this will be fun./_

_Told you._

"How about we switch off, then?" Takeshi smiles.

"Yes, of course, and then I'll have to wonder why I always seem to land on the incredibly expensive dates while you land on the cheap ones."

"Awww…" Takeshi feigns adoration, "You'd spend a hundred dollars on me? That is so sweet!"

"Not funny," Satoshi glared.

With a sneer that screams that Takeshi knows what he's doing, Takeshi leans back against the tree he was sitting in front of and shrugs as he concludes, "Well, then we'll have to arrange on who will pay for what date. I have all the dates in my planner. We'll pick them out tomorrow."

"Fine."

"Okay, perfect." Takeshi leans on his left hand, scrunching the grass as he does, and details on about what he has planned for him and Satoshi, "So, tomorrow is set as planned then. I made time—"

"Don't make it sound like you have a busy schedule."

"I will make it sound busy if I _want _to make it sound busy, okay Satoshi? Now, I _made time_ for you tomorrow afternoon. That's why I asked if you can help me on my chemistry and now we'll be picking out our dates, which gives plenty of room for the 'bonding time.' Thursday is our official bonding day."

"Will we actually do homework?"

"Yes. If you're wondering when is the first kiss, that's not until next week on…" Takeshi flipped the pages, "Sunday, the relaxing walk in the park. But that's not important yet. Hmm, since Friday we have to go to that party… Sunday, you'll come over to my house and we'll watch a movie together. I'll make you a meal and, oh… but I have to do my article that day. Hmm, scratch that. We'll have to watch a movie on Tuesday."

"Why Tuesday?"

"We have nothing on Tuesday."

"…All right."

"So, Sunday I guess, we'll relax."

"The walk in the park?"

"_No._ Are you even _listening?_ The first kiss is _next_ Sunday, Satoshi. _Next_ Sunday. Get your damn mind off my lips!"

"I'm not—"

"Shut up. Pervert."

Giggling slightly, I scoot over to Takeshi, hinting that I would like to look at his day planner. Mentally, he gives me permission as he hands it to me. His writing is legible, thankfully, and I'm noticing little drawings next to the events. It's cute. There are mini Takeshis and Satoshis all over the pages, Takeshi keeping in mind of Satoshi's cold features. As I look the pages though, they seem to turn into smiles. Smiles?

Looking up at Takeshi, I refrain from confronting him with this detail. Why would Satoshi go through a transformation if this is nothing but for school? Is Takeshi planning something?

_/Maybe Takeshi likes Satoshi./_

_This can't be a set-up, can it?_

_/Well, you've seen the kid. He seems to have a knack for always manipulating Creepy Boy to where he wants him. Maybe __**Takeshi**__ is the genius here./_

_That would mean…_

_/This is probably his biggest manipulation if we're right on our suspicions…/_

"And by Monday, you should be perfectly comfortable with the fact that we are boyfriends."

"And if I'm not?"

"Oh, don't worry. You will."

"Humor me."

"No." Takeshi waved Satoshi off, "You can't question the laws of romance, Satoshi."

_**Takeshi**_

Wednesday, 4:48 PM

I have exactly three hours and twelve minutes to get ready, tell my dad what is going on, and succeed at not getting thrown out of the house before Satoshi comes here to pick me up to take me to Tori-komachi. I'm nervous about what my father will say when he learns that his son is going out with his… boss.

Man… This is _not_ going to be easy…

"Takeshi," My father greets, opening the refrigerator for the dinner I cooked up for him last night. I would eat with him, but I have a date and I'm never hungry at this time of day, which is why we almost rarely eat together. At least I sit with him and watch him eat, right? There's always that.

This is his break shift: Three to Seven. He gets four hours off to take a nap or eat, then go back to work, come home around five in the morning to sleep until nine, eat breakfast, and return to work again around eleven, then back to three again. So, in a sense, this is really the only time I get to actually talk to him.

"Hi Dad."

So, I better not screw this up or I'll never get to talk to him.

"How was school?"

"It was good," I respond. "Um, Dad, I have to tell you something."

"Yeah?" He finds the eel I especially made for him today (for reasons that are fairly obvious) and grins excitedly, "Thanks, Takeshi. What's the occasion?"

"Heh, oh… no reason." I try to laugh it off. "Just got tired of it in the freezer, you know."

"Sorry." He beams, "Hey! This Friday is the annual police party. You're invited as always."

"Yeah, I know. Looking forward to it," I lie, though not entirely. I do like it when I get more time with my father, even if he's a bit paranoid, scary, and obsessed. Those are just details in his personality…

"So, what do you have to tell me?"

I sigh.

It's now or never…

"I'm going out with Satoshi."

I wince as I hear the sound of a fork dropping to the plate, probably landing on top of the eel that I spent three hours cooking on. All I can do right now is pray as I hear the footsteps of my father coming closer to me, also taking notice of a napkin being rubbed against his hands as he makes sounds with his tongue because he's trying to get rid of that little bit of meat from between his teeth.

He's going to hit me…  
He's going to yell at me…

"Excuse me?"

He's going to make me say it again to his face.

"I said I'm going out with Satoshi, Dad." I gulp, looking up at my father, envying the fact that I'm not tall—probably the gene from Mom, who always looked short compared to my dad in the pictures I have of her.

"Hiwatari?" He asks to make sure.

"Yes," I confirm.

"When…" I am so sympathetic for my father as his face turns grim, going through all sorts of thoughts probably about where he went wrong and most likely on all his regrets for not being around enough. He made me cook. He made me clean. He made me do all sorts of stereotypical ladylike things. But to him, he made me gay.

"It's not what you think," I had to stop these thoughts before they went any further because I don't really believe I'm gay. "It's just for an article."

"What?"

And now he's confused.

"Well, you see," I fidget. "Kanagawa-sensei said that my articles were lacking and that if I didn't come up with a column, I would fail the class. And I couldn't think of anything because everyone took the good ideas, so I came up with an idea after I saw two girls ask Satoshi out on a date only to get refused. And then I thought about how he never goes out with anyone, so what is he like to go out with? Since it's my column, I have to be the one in the experiment, so that's why I'm going out with him."

It sounds like bullshit, doesn't it?

"You're going out with him, a boy need I remind you, for a _school_ article?"

"Why does everyone tell me this like I don't know?" I whisper.

"Because, Takeshi, this is a crazy idea."

"It's just going out with another guy…"

"People… _do_ things when dating." He gets a little angry, "And why are you so _comfortable_ with the fact that you're 'just dating another guy'? _Satoshi_ nonetheless!"

"Because he's the hottest boy in school and I'm his friend and we have good conversations, so we're mature?"

"Repeat the first point."

"No."

"Repeat it."

"No," I blush.

"_Repeat_ it."

"I have to start getting ready."

"Ready for _what?_"

"We're… um, well… We're going out tonight."

"It's Wednesday."

"Yeah, well, it _would_ have been _Friday_, but I forgot the annual police party is this Friday, so it has to be today."

"Why not Saturday?"

I smile, "You mean, you'll let me go out with him?"

"No. Now, why wouldn't it be on Saturday?"

"You _have to_, though! He's going to pick me up at seven!"

"Seven?!" Dad dramatically swipes the air disapprovingly, "No. Seven is too late."

"What are you talking about? That's freaking early!"

"Don't use that language, Takeshi. It's not charming."

"Sorry." I sigh, "But it is early, Dad. We'll be home by nine."

"Nine? What are you two going to be doing?"

"We're going to Tori-komachi."

"That Yakitori restaurant by Hara?"

"Mm-hmm," I nod. "That's the place."

"Why there? Isn't it a bit small?"

"You know," I sigh. "That's exactly what Satoshi said. I _like_ that place, _okay?_ It's a good place for first dates methinks. Nice and cozy for good conversations, the food is good…"

"I suppose. Just there?"

"Just there."

"…Fine."

"So, I have to get ready."

Yes, I know what you're all thinking. Didn't he just say I wasn't allowed to go out with Satoshi? Hold on. Give him a second. Like Satoshi, he's a little slow.

"Wait, _WHAT?_"

See?

"You are _NOT_ going out with him! And that's final, Takeshi!"

And now for the pathetic little "But… But Daaaaddddyyyy…"

"But… But Daaaaddddyyyy…" I sniff, "I never ask for _any_thing and all I want to do is go out with Sa_to_shi for ten weeks so I can do my article… _Please_, Daddy? Pleeeeeeease?"

I may be fourteen. I may be a guy. But it's the gift we only-children get. To fathers who are usually busy: The "Daddy" never fails.

"No, Takeshi, this is serious." He's trying to avoid my eyes. My deep, _'why are you failing me, Daddy?' _eyes.

"Daddy… I'm not gay… Pleeeeease?"

"I'm… I'm not too comfortable with this…"

I stared at him harder.

"I…"

Wednesday, 7:08 PM

"I'll be back around nine! Bye, Daddy!" I say, trying to keep the image of innocent-only-child up as I leave the house with Satoshi. Satoshi is about to say something when I hear my father in the background shout, "Remember, Takeshi! Mean strangers beat little boys but nice strangers _rape_ them! You stay with Satoshi and be careful!"

"Uh…" Nervously, I laugh, "Okay, Daddy!"

I shut the door.

"Say anything and I'll fucking rip your throat out, Satoshi."

"Wasn't going to…"

_**Satoshi**_

I'm not sure what Takeshi finds romantic, but the sounds of men frantically cooking in the kitchen right next to us while shouting profanities and insults at each other—with the occasional death-threat—isn't exactly what I want to hear while on a date with someone, especially if a knife just landed right next to my foot.

"Oy! Idiot! You almost killed a customer!" Thank you for the wise wording, kind sir. "You know, one day I'm going to kill you with that damn knife and we'll see who laughs at who when you're in a coffin, OKAY? God damn son of a bitch—" The manager I assume turns to me after picking up the knife, "I'm sorry, sir. Mao is a bit of an idiot."

Before I even get a chance of forgiving him, he notices Takeshi, who didn't even notice a single moment of this and instead is concentrating more on what he is going to order tonight.

"Takeshi!"

Takeshi looks up and beams, "Haruka!"

"What are you doing here? It's not Sunday."

"I know." Takeshi blushes, "I'm on a date."

"Pick out the restaurant?"

"Always advertising for you," Takeshi jokes.

"So, who's the lucky—boy?" Haruka then leans down to Takeshi, "Oy. Ain't he the…"

"Yes, Haruka."

Wonderful. I was being gossiped about by Takeshi to a man who gives death-threats to his employees.

"This is Hiwatari Satoshi, commander of the police agency. He works with my father."

"How is he, by the way?"

"Nervous as Hell that I'm on a date."

Haruka pets Takeshi, joking on still, "Always treated you like a princess…"

"Hey! Still a guy here!"

"Only princesses date boys, Takeshi."

"Hmph."

"Anyways, what would you like to order?"

"The usual."

"And you?"

I don't exactly know what to order. I was too busy dodging knives to care.

"He'll have the same."

"All right."

After Haruka leaves, I lean over the table to Takeshi, whispering, "Feeling confident enough to order for me?"

"You were taking too long and I practically cook your lunch everyday anyways. I know what you like."

_/He makes it sound as if he's dated you for years./_

Ignoring his comment, I take a moment to observe just where exactly I am. It's a little hub of a restaurant. About eleven or twelve tables in a vertical row adjacent to the live kitchen, with ducks and chickens hanging. There are some octopus tentacles in bowls here and there on top of the glass countertops, where chefs would then dump them in soups or boiling hot water to tame down their rubbery textures, which even then so… they're still quite chewy.

Hot steam overflows from the door, where the kitchen goes on further. It's probably where they take out all the blood from the meat or where other dishes too big for the live kitchen is cooked. Either way, pots and pans can be heard clashing and dropping, washed and dried. Occasionally one man will rush out screaming, "Plates! Plates! I need plates, damn it!"

And then the frantic busboy will scurry amongst the ten or twelve tables, praying one of them is empty and has a few plates only to then realize that he has to wash them. So, he grabs the plates and starts to run to the inner kitchen, but trips and explains just exactly why occasionally one man will rush out screaming for plates. The boy keeps breaking them.

"So…"

My eyes trail back to Takeshi, who looks nice tonight. Although this relationship is as true as a politician's speech, I suppose we're still treating this as if we had decided on our own to go out with one another. I did take the time to put on some actual nice clothes and so did he. His black pants hugged him nicely (such a weird term, but I guess it fits), which introduced a fairly interesting fact. Takeshi has quite a figure.

"I expected a place more… quiet." I mention.

"You get used the chaos after awhile," Takeshi explains. "It's a small restaurant, but they still get a good business, so they're always rushing. Haruka is the manager, so he's _always_ yelling, especially at Mao-kun. Mao means well, but he's not so… bright."

"I noticed when my foot almost got stabbed."

"Oh?" Takeshi genuinely looks worried, peering down at my foot. "Is it okay?"

"It's fine. Does he normally drop knives?"

"No. Well, anyways, him over there, the busboy, that's Yuki-san. He's really clumsy, so he ends up breaking plates, but he always buys new ones. Then there're the waitresses: Komiko, Julia, and Ai. They're pretty nice."

"You know everyone here?"

"I come here often, usually on Sundays because they have a special on their yakitori dishes."

"Ah."

We go silent for a moment. There's a small television angled up at the right corner of the restaurant, where the news is playing. Glancing over to Takeshi, I notice just how intent he looks when he watches the news. He must be observing what they're doing, taking tips and observing their flaws as warnings of what not to do. So far, the story of a man who shoplifted a store was caught on tape and then arrested. When they found out what he stole, police officials were shocked to discover he had stolen… a bible.

Takeshi laughs, "Well, that should people something then."

"What exactly?"

"Don't shoplift, and especially not the Bible. God doesn't want to be stolen.

"But He wants to be bought?"

"You calling God a whore? You'll go to Hell for that."

We chuckle.

It was a timed joke.

"Oh! Stupid me," Haruka rushes back, killing the moment. "What would you two like to drink?"

_**Takeshi**_

Wednesday, 8:42 PM

Since I told my father that I would be home around, we had to start walking to my house now. It was actually a nice date. We were laughing at some points of the conversation, which was new since I expected more of us arguing with each other. Not tonight though. That was nice.

"So, is your father fine with us dating?"

We were walking side by side; Satoshi having his hands in his pockets and mine amusing themselves with the ends of my shirt. Throughout the entire night for some reason, I had a hard time facing Satoshi in the eye—and it might have been because my bangs kept getting in the way, but I'm not too sure that's why.

"You're kidding, right?"

"I'll take that as a no."

"I've managed to have him settle with the fact that dating you means I'm safe."

"You're safe?"

Nervously, I chuckle out, "You _are_ a cop after all…"

"The real reason, Takeshi."

"Well, he figures you're too smart to mess with me, and when I say that, I don't mean fighting."

"I know what you mean."

"Exactly. He's not too thrilled about this though. He doesn't really want me dating, and especially not a guy, but he'll live with it." I paused, "Um… Does your father know?"

"He doesn't care."

"But does he know?"

"No." Satoshi shrugs, "Never got the time to tell him. I will when I get the chance, I guess. Not that it matters."

"So… having dinner with him is out of the question?"  
Satoshi eyed me, trying to pinpoint if I was serious or not, and answers, "He's very busy. I don't think you would be able to, no."

"Well, that's okay. If he's busy, that's fine."

We arrived at my house, walking up to my door.

"I mean, I don't _have_ to meet him."

We stand there for a moment, not sure of what we're supposed to do next. The kiss isn't scheduled until next Sunday, so uh… Yeah, we can't kiss yet. He's staring right at me and I'm staring right back. I should be more romantic about this, but we're not exactly doing the whole I'm-in-love-with-you gaze. We're doing the what-do-we-do-now gaze.

"Um, I guess I'll… uh," I stutter. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right." He nods, looking the other way. "Tomorrow."

"Tonight was, um, nice."

"Yes. Yes it was."

"We… we should do this again sometime."

"Don't you have us schedu—"

"Pretend we don't, Satoshi."

He nods again, "Sure."

"So, um, bye?"

"…Bye."

I'm jamming the key into the keyhole, but for whatever reason why the key won't go into the damn keyhole. You'd think after the many years of me opening this door, this door would be faithful to me on my most awkward moments, but no. My door is a sadist and wants to see me fall at my prime.

"Having trouble with the door?"

"No! Fine! I'm fine!" And now I'm harshly whispering to the door, "Open, you bitch."

"Are you… sure?"

"I think I know how to open my own door, Satoshi."

"You're getting used to that, aren't you?"

"What? The name-thing? Yeah, kind of."

I take a step back to try opening my door again, but the laws of gravity are against me today. So, when Satoshi had to catch me in his arms, I could only blush and abuse the door mentally, shouting profanities and all. Damn door.

"You seem to be having a lot of trouble."

He helps me stand upright, turning me around so he can grab the keys, but I refuse to give them to him. Pulling my arm back, I smirk at his miss and say, "No, no."

"Then open the door," he whispers.

"I will."

It just hit me on how close we were to each other. When he leaned for the keys, he had to step a bit forward to me, almost hovering over me. Now, his face was just close, teasingly close. And since he was taller, all I could see right in front of my eyes were his lips. He tilted his head down while I tilted mine up, and we thought about the situation for a moment.

My lips parted slightly, as my tongue slipped out and licked them to moisten them up. He leaned down further and I began to get nervous. The kiss was scheduled Sunday, not today. I'm not ready for it today. I am still not ready with the fact that I'm dating Satoshi. Though, it's not so harmful, right? Harmless. Right.

Fuck.

I can't do this yet.

"Well, gotta go! Bye, Satoshi!" Turning my head quickly, I unlock the door quickly, rushing into my house.

Shit. I… Damn it!

Opening the door again, I'm relieved to see Satoshi had barely a moment to realize what just happened. Standing on my tip-toes, I lean in and quickly kiss him on the lips.

"Thanks for the dinner, bye!"

I close the door.

That's better.

_**Daisuke**_

"So…?"

Thursday, 12:12 PM

"So… what?"

It was juicy. If Takeshi didn't want to talk about it, it was _juicy._

"So… How _was_ it? How was your date with Hiwatari?"

We were in the lunch line today. Takeshi didn't have enough time to make himself a lunch last night since he had to do his homework after his date. I figured this would happen, which is why I told my mother not to make me anything for today. Takeshi hates going into the lunch line alone. Some nightmare he had…

"It was good…"

"Come on, Saehara." I nudge Takeshi, "You talk about these things all the time."

"I've never been on a date before! What are you talking about?"

"You talk about everything."

"And I'm going to," He huffs. "Just wait until the first column comes out."

"Why do I have to wait?"

"Because I treat my readers equally."

Sighing, I let it go. I lean into his ear since I am behind him and ask what both Dark and I want to know, "Did you two kiss?"

"Niwa!" He blushes, "I told you, that's not scheduled until next Sunday."

He's avoiding the answer and somewhat lying, but that's okay. That's a yes to me.

"You never know," I playfully whisper, "Maybe you two will go off the schedule."

Just like their conversations.

"Oh ha, ha."

We both come up to the trays, where we then proceed to grab one, and slide down further to the drink section. Takeshi grabs a carton of strawberry milk while I grab a chocolate. We slide past the bottled water, but Takeshi pauses for a moment, looking at the price. They're a hundred fifty yen.

"Who would buy expensive water?" He says.

"My mom."

"…Besides your mom."

"Me," Riku, who we discover is right behind us, then admits.

"…Besides you too."

"What is wrong with buying water?" Riku asks, proudly placing a bottle on her tray.

"The fact that you're _buying water, _something that is probably two-thirds of this planet and you're _buying_ it—I mean, seriously."

"A lot of things come from this planet. In fact, _everything_ comes from this planet. What's your point?"

"You can't get plastic like you can get water, Riku. Waste of money, I say."

"Eh." Riku shrugs it off, "So, Takeshi, did you manage to balance the book on your head?"

"For chemistry? No. The book is too heavy. My head is not heavy enough."

"Harada's head is heavy enough," I say.

Riku blinks, "What? Just because I have intelligence, my head is heavy?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Okay," Takeshi interrupts. "So that means I'm an idiot."

"No!" I sigh, "Oh, never mind…"

"Where's Hiwatari?" We pay for our meals.

"He's outside, saving a spot for us."

"I hear _someone_ is going out with him," Riku implies.

Takeshi sighs, "It's printed on paper, Harada."

"Why him of all people?"

"Because it's _him_ of all people, nobody knows what it's like to date him. And believe me, a lot of people want to date him…"

"Yeah, I heard." Riku walked with us to the door that lead outside, but stopped suddenly, "I have to find Risa. Anyways, be careful, Saehara. You're dating someone, which involves more than one person."

"I know."

We part, going outside and meeting up with Satoshi. This is where I take the subtle details of their actions with each other and overanalyze them. You see what I have to resort to when Takeshi doesn't tell me things?

"Hey Satoshi," Takeshi sits down next to Satoshi. Close, but not too close. Okay. They're getting more comfortable with each other, but they're still in need of getting used to.

Satoshi acknowledges our presence and greets, "Hello, Takeshi, Niwa."

"Hi Hiwatari."

He used my last and Takeshi's first. They did something to get Satoshi to say that. Clearly.

_/Tell me when the hardcore sex arrives./_

_Dark!_

_/This part of the relationship is boring. They're getting to "know" each other. Sigh… Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I don't care. Let's get on to the sex, shall we?./_

_Is that all you care about?_

_/Yes./_

…_Well… okay then._

"I bought a chocolate chip cookie for you."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

It seems Takeshi can't go a day without giving Satoshi something to eat.

**linebreakeriwonderifdogsandcatsevermorphintohumanbeingsandthatswherebdsmwascreatedbutthenhumansliketheideasotheystoleit**

Schizo: So, since someone did ask, this story will not be just ten/eleven chapters long. I have no idea how long it will be, but it will be longer than that. In the meantime, just enjoy it while you have it.

Review Columnist Thingy:

**Sheik's Lonely:** Well, I can't be the _only _one able to make scenarios with the two together, but I'll be patient. I enjoyed your little drabble of them together, so who knows what the future will bring? And yes, the sex will be most violent and passionate.

**Susumi: **Why thank you! Takeshi is incredibly insane in this story, believing in things that are clearly _crazy_, but that's why we all love him, no?

**voldysXangel: **I guess they're a weird couple, but you grow onto them… Have you read other TakeshixSatoshi fics? O.o If so, where they?!

**TheFutureMrs.HaruSohma: **I love you too! 3 Yeah, the SatoxDaixTake deal seems exciting, but not in this ficcie. I must try not to bring drama into this thing (as I am known to trick my readers into believing the fic is going to be happy-happy when I say Romance/Humor), so… yeah.

**Disco-Dancing on the Roof: **Takoshi? lol… What about Sakeshi? Like, you have to be drunk on _sake_ to like _Sake_shi? Get it? Lame? Yeah, I know. I'll stop.

**Daisukeismyboyfriend: **I will try to make it as funny as ever. And don't worry… You'll learn to _like_ Takeshixsome-random-boy-character after this fic.

**inu-youkai 911: **Thank you. The idea came up while I was eating a popsicle of all things. (Just shows you where my mind was at, no?)

**KireiRakuen: **Thank you! I guess it is… strangely… plausible. Holy shit, I never even noticed this.

**Chocolatemaltesers: **I will try to update as much as possible!

**Suteki Kage: **Takeshi will always be nuts… It's just never gonna stop. Takeshi nuts

**Brutus: **No! It's not going to be ten chapters long! You crazy? O.o You know how fast-paced I'd have to be to make them go from I-kinda-hate-you to I-love-you? CRAZY fast, man… Unless I turn it into a I-just-want-sex, but… I'm still a girl and I need a plot. And Takeshi will always be cuter than Daisuke. (But Daisuke is close)

**Lady Darthorn: **There isn't enough SatoshixTakeshi love out there… but I'm going to try to change that. Hopefully I'll inspire some people to write? Maybe? Please? I don't know… We'll see, I guess.

**Shadow Vampiress: **Really? How was Europe? I've always wanted to go there, but never got the chance to. So far, I've only been in South America. I wonder if I should make a fic about my adventures there… Who knows. Looking forward to your SatoshixTakeshi fic, though!

**It's the voices' fault: **Thank you. I'll try.

**Tenshi of Freedom: **Thank you!

**Doreiku: **I will write more! I'm glad you're addicted. Now, go read my other SatoxTakeshi fics and review. It's a pairing you _want_ to get addicted to. 3

**Lottagoodyaoilovin: **…I'm not even going to comment on the first part besides: Yes, gay boys _can_ have sex. And you… go on… telling the world… Yes…

**Death2HeartlessSoul: **Thank you! I'll try to update as much as possible.

Review please.

Cheers -Steph


	3. Whooooo's a sucker?

Schizo: And so I return to this beloved story to see that reviews are skyrocketing here. Seriously, you guys are making me so happy that you like/love this story, and especially because you all (or most) are very supportive of the SatoshixTakeshi pairing. With that said...

Am I gonna see more SatoxTake fics? Hmm? Please? Come on... You know you want more...

I know the pairing is not the first pairing you think of when you see D N Angel, so I understood wholeheartedly that it's not exactly the easiest pairing to create valid stories for, but... as much I _love_ the other pairings, I'm seriously tired of SatoxDai's perfect love, DarkxKrad's bittersweet love, and DarkxDai's defying-nature love... I want my hot, passionate WTF? love, damn it. XD

But I'll wait I guess.

Anyways, I started a forum, which is sorely being neglected because I don't think much people participate in forums in this fandom, but I have. It's called "What if?" If you're interested, check it out or whatever.

Also, sorry for not getting within a month's update. I'm back in school again and I had to settle this issue (this happens every year...) with my guidance counselor who probably hates me guts for constantly defying her wishes of controlling my life, in which I had to schedule my Spanish class next year and fit my journalism (Yes, I too am a passionate reporter-to-be like Takeshi) class for this year with the 3 AP classes I'm to take.

Why mention this? Well... When you take Journalism IV (editor for the 2nd time in a row), AP Chem, AP US History, AND AP English, writing does not always fit in. And I love writing. So, please forgive me if I don't get to update as much as I wish to, but I'll try because writing is part of my nutrition diet.

Oh, and if anyone reads the reviews (because some people... do...), ignore the review from my friend (Un-kun and Sasori-danna) for... obvious reasons. Just... move on.

NOTE: Uh, this chapter might seriously be long... but it's because of two reasons: One) I always write long chapters. Two) I seriously didn't want to split this up into two chapters.

I do not own D N Angel or the lyrics to Madonna's "Like a Virgin" or The Turtle's "So Happy Together." (It scares you that those songs are involved, doesn't it? It should.)

**linebreakeriwritewaytoolongofauthornotesmymotheristryingtofigureoutourtvandmygrandmotheristotallyplayingwithherteeth**

_**Takeshi**_

I'm itching to get out of my math class, which is my last class of the day, because I just made up a really good jingle for therapy (Peer counseling, maybe? Kind of works…) and I just had to get back to Kanagawa-sensei for the Thursday journalism recap. I told Satoshi that he could take his time to getting to my house because of the fact that I have to stay after school for a few minutes for journalism.

Every Thursday my journalism class, which is the only journalism class, gathers up after school to get a perspective of what the next paper is going to look like. Hadae especially wants everyone to be there—and if you aren't, then you better be working on an article. She's the senior editor and everything, so she has to know these things.

Thursday, 2:45 PM

The bell rang.

Thursday, 2:47 PM

"Quiet! Quiet! _QUIET!_"

Okay. We're quiet.

Hadae clears her throat, "Okay then."

"Wait," Kanagawa-sensei looks around the room, "Is everyone here?"

"Kanagawa-sensei… Come on," Hadae rolls her eyes, "If someone is late, they'll tell me their info after someone else. It doesn't matter."

Kanagawa-sensei points to No. 4 of the _Code of Laws,_ crossing his arms. Looking over, I read in my head, "_Punctuality is key to being a proper reporter. One who is late is one who is careless. Carelessness results in bad articles._"

"Fine, whatever. I'll take attendance. Listen up, people, because I'm not doing this again."

I'm skipping through my math notes, trying to find the page with the jingle I wrote. I found it. Right now, I'm just waiting for my name to be called. In the meantime, I just resort to what I usually do when I wait (curse my name for being an S-starter): I just simply stare at people until they get uncomfortable. It's really fun.

First victim: Miyasaki Aiko. That blonde bastard thinks he owns this place, but he doesn't. Just because he always gets A's on his reports and good criticism from everyone, does _not_ mean he is that great of a writer. His writing is okay, but you never hear people asking him for more articles. Yeah… At least I have people who _want_ to read my stuff, not just read it because there was nothing else!

Fear my eyes, you blonde bastard.

Fear them _now._

"SAEHARA?"

I look up at Hadae, "Oh! Sorry! Here!"

"Pay more attention, Saehara."

"Sorry, Kanagawa-sensei."

"Okay! Done! Everyone's here!" Hadae beams, "Now… Who would like to tell me what they have planned or any new ideas? Hmm? Anyone? Come on, give me something here."

"Oh! Oh! Me! Me!" I bounce in my seat, "I have an advertisement idea!"

"Okay," She nods. "What'cha got, Saehara?"

"Well… In my math class, I was just thinking about how not many teenagers try to ask for help because they get scared and they're intimidated by what other people might think of them if they try to go for therapy or peer counseling."

"All right, I'm following."

"So… I wrote a jingle to make therapy look like a fun idea."

"Excuse me?"

"I wrote a jingle."

The class groans.

"What? Oh come on! It's not bad this time, I swear!"

"Yeah," Miyasaki smirks, "Just like your _wonderful_ articles."

"You want something now, Miyasaki?" I glare.

"At least I don't have to go _gay_ to pass this class."

"Oooooooohhhhhh… Burn…"

The class seems to be against me.

"Miyasaki," Kanagawa-sensei sternly stares at him, pointing a finger down, "There is no need to criticize Saehara for his work. He does excellent articles with very good feedback from the school."

(I appreciate him backing me up, but… didn't he insult my articles three days ago?)

"Come on, sensei. You think his articles get good feedback? They get laughed at—and not because they're funny."

"I suggest you look at the statistics of his promo for his upcoming column."

"Yeah," Gunma, the weather guy, starts to laugh. "They are totally kicking your column's _ass_, dude. And he only wrote a _promo._"

"Really?" I smile, "How good?"

"You're already getting questions by fangirls," our layout guy, Gifu, tells me. "I quote: '_Are you going to kiss him? What does he kiss like? Does he use tongue?_' End quote. Looks like you're going to have to _get it on_ with Hiwatari, Saehara."

I blush, "But… the stats? What are the numbers?"

"I don't know. Ask Shiga."

Looking over to Shiga, I notice she's hurriedly scrambling numbers on her papers. She doesn't even move her head up to tell me what my stats are.

"Four hundred and five papers were issued out on Wednesday. Two hundred twenty-three e-mails were sent here. One hundred twelve of them were a discussion on _I Like Brains_. Saehara managed to score half of the stats just on Wednesday."

I turned to Miyasaki, "I may have had to turn gay, but guess what? THEY LIKE ME GAY, BITCH."

"How the hell did _he_ get _half_ of the stats?" Miyasaki looks so pissed as he stands up from his desk that I might just have an orgasm of pleasure just by seeing him fail.

Fail bitch, _fail._

"You underestimate the popularity of my boyfriend, Miyasaki." I smirk. "I didn't just go gay for _anyone_. I got high standards."

"Okay then," He turns to me, "Then tell us that _fantastic _jingle of yours."

"All right."

Standing up, I clear my throat and sing.

_Are monkeys flying in your head?  
__Are elephants dancing around you?  
__Do you always feel like you're dead?  
__Do you always ask if it's just you?_

_Well, worry no more today!  
_'_Cause there's a new cure for you!  
__It's medication! Yay! Hooray!  
__It's called therapy too!_

Grinning, I look up only to see most of my class, who were previously cheering for my side… now putting on faces that defined: _Damn…_

"And just when you were on a roll, too." Gunma spoke for them all.

"This, people, is why I don't take him seriously."

"What…?"

I hold up my math notebook as if by showing them, I can suddenly change their opinions on the song, but they only shake their heads, implying that I really should give up now while I still have the chance to save my dignity. Sighing, I sit back down, wishing that someone could see the genius in that jingle. I mean, I know therapy is supposed to be taken seriously, but… a lot of mental-freaky people can finally get cured if they trust the person singing to them to go take therapy.

I even had an idea for a commercial for the TV Production folks. I can see it all now… There'd be this little boy who is crying to himself about all sorts of voices inside of his head when suddenly this man in a tuxedo, top hat, and cane dances over to him out of no where and starts singing. Then other people would join in on the jingle. Lights everywhere, pink elephants and monkeys flying and dancing, and then the boy would last been seen in a therapy room, ending the commercial with, "I'm cured!"

Genius.

"Look at him, daydreaming." Miyasaki is the devil's reincarnation. I just know it. "Thinking about your boyfriend or something?"

"Okay. One, we're only dating for the article. Two, if I _was_ thinking about my boyfriend like that, I wouldn't be 'daydreaming,' okay? I'd be doing what _you_ do all the time: 'Masturbating.' Okay? Super."

"Why, you fu—"

"Miyasaki! Saehara! Stop this _now._"

Kanagawa-sensei isn't pleased that all of this is going on, especially when we're supposed to be talking about the newspaper. I wish I could be more civilized around Miyasaki, but he's a tempting boy when it comes to wanting to kill him. There's evil in those green eyes of his…

"Now, Saehara, aside from your jingle, do you know what you are going to write for your first issue of your column?"

"Oh! Yes," I nod. "We went out on a date yesterday—"

"_Dude,_" Gunma stares widely at me, "You're seriously dating him?"

"…Yeah… I… I thought we addressed that."

"How was it? You two make-out or something?"

"N-No," I blush.

"Well, did you kiss?" Hadae chips in.

"Uh, maybe." I'm blushing harder now. "I mean no! Well, not really… I don't know."

"Oh my god!" Nara, our fashion entertainment columnist, giggles. "You totally kissed. Did you two hold hands?"

"Uh… no."

Shimane, a sports writer, moves his hands in a provocative manner as he asks, "Did he make any moves?"

"No?" I growl, "It was a first date! We're just starting this!" Sighing, I continue, "We went out yesterday. Today he's going to meet me at my house for—"

"For—"

"For _studying_, people! For _studying!_ God! Just because we're gay, that doesn't mean we're horny and ready to jump each other!"

"Wait… You two are actually gay?"

With a stoic face, I simply reply to Gunma with a, "No."

"Look at Saehara denying his feelings," Miyasaki taunted, "because what kind of straight boy would volunteer himself for such a gay idea? Pun intended."

"Miyasaki… How's about I stab you with the meaning of life? Bet your _DEMONIC POWERS _won't save you then when I stab you with the pen of Jesus Christ!"

"…the hell you talking about?"

Oh snap.

He wasn't supposed to know I knew.

"Sorry, nothing."

"Hey," Gunma leans over to me, "Is that pen in the shape of a cross?"

"Yeah." I beam and show him, "It even has a mini-Jesus nailed onto it at the top. See?"

"Awesome!"

"Yeah, well, uh, no, but… I got it at an anime convention… two years ago. It never runs out of ink. Never. Definitely a Jesus-pen."

"Totally."

"So," Hadae interrupts, "First date and studying? That's it?"

"Oh. No. Friday we have to go to the annual JPD party because of our fathers and Saturday, we both are volunteering for the Eco-Friendly Fair. Sunday, we'll relax. It'll be packed, don't worry."

"Okay. Good."

_**Satoshi**_

Thursday, 3:52 PM

I have been sitting outside his door for a half hour. When Takeshi told me that his journalism recap-meeting would only be a few minutes, I expected it to be… a few minutes. I did not expect to be sitting outside his door for this long.

"Hiwatari?"

Looking up, I see Chief.

"Hello, Chief."

"What are you doing here? Takeshi isn't home."

"He told me to meet him here."

"Oh." Chief twitched a little, "Fine. Come inside."

He unlocks the door, walking in first, and goes directly into the kitchen after he hangs his coat and sets his suitcase on the floor. I close the door behind me, hearing him take out a single plate and cup and then opening the refrigerator.

"Er," I hear him cough. "I would offer you food, but I don't cook. Takeshi usually does that. We have some leftovers though."

"It's fine." I walk into the kitchen, "Do you have any idea when Takeshi will be here?"

"In a few minutes," he answers, his back facing me as he searches for something.

He makes a satisfied gasp as he takes out a green bowl labeled "Dad" and stands straight, bringing the dish over to the kitchen island. Opening the container, his grin grows larger as he sees one of Takeshi's best dishes, Chawanmushi, a steamed egg custard dish that contains chicken or shrimp. I should know. He makes it once a month for himself and usually offers me a piece. As much as I hate to admit it…

I can never deny Takeshi's food.

"You want some?"

I look up at Chief, slightly confused.

"You were on the verge of salivating, Hiwatari." He smirks, "I guess you've tasted Takeshi's food."

"Quite often."

"He's amazing, isn't he?"

"He is a good cook, yes."

"Don't know where he got it from. He definitely didn't get it from me." Chief shrugs, pouring some of the platter on a plate and then reaching over from his cabinet for another plate for me.

He heats them up in the microwave for a minute or two and we sit down at a little table just outside of the kitchen. It's a bit awkward to eat with Chief to tell you the truth, especially now that I'm dating… his son.

"Why are you here again?" He asks.

"Takeshi wanted me to help him in chemistry."

"He's having trouble in chemistry?"

"Apparently."

"He could have asked me," Chief mutters.

"Yes, well, apparently this is a timed event. We won't just be studying."

Chief cocks a brow, "Excuse me?"

"Nothing to worry about, Chief."

"I don't like the fact that I have an option _of_ worrying." He puts his chopsticks down, "Why _are_ you dating him anyway?"

"He asked."

"That's it? That's what it takes to get a date with you?"

"Well, surely I wouldn't know if someone wanted to date me if they never told me."

"Give it to me straight, Hiwatari. Are you trying to get in it with my son?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know damned well what I'm talking about."

"…Actually, no, I don't."

"Are you trying to get him to bend over?"

"What? Why would I—Oh." I cough, "No. This is strictly for school purposes."

"Oh, give me a break, Hiwatari. You're talking to a _detective,_ for crying out loud. I'm pretty sure that you don't just date a boy for school, no matter how much you need the grade."

"Well, I don't actually get a grade."

Chief stares at me.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Unfortunately… no."

The scenario must seem like a pathetic excuse to lie to Takeshi's father.

"Then… what do you get out of this?"

"I'm not sure to tell you the truth."

There is a moment of silence.

"Okay, so tell me again why they call you a genius?"

The door slams open.

"DAD!" Takeshi slams the door behind him, speaking quickly. "Satoshi's going to be here any minute now and I know you're still uncomfortable with me dating him, but we're just studying. So, eat fast, because he's—" He notices me eating with his father. "—coming?"

"Did you pay him to date you?" Chief asks Takeshi.

"What?"

"I just don't get it… I just don't… get it. You two say you aren't gay, right?"

We nod.

"But you're… dating."

We nod.

"And it's for school, but Satoshi doesn't get a grade."

"Oh, well, um, I can explain that. He has to think about what he wants and then I'll give it to him."

"Right…" Chief contemplates for a moment. "Well, I'm not… too… comfortable with this… but…" Chief eyes me, "If you try anything, I _will_ kill you. I just thought you should know."

"That'd be appreciated."

_**Takeshi**_

"Sorry about my dad."

"It's fine."

I close the door behind me, setting my backpack onto the floor and heading for my closet, where my laundry hamper is, and take off my socks, throwing them in the hamper. Satoshi is sitting at the edge of my bed, observing its silky texture of black and white checkerboard polyester fabric. I guess he noticed that my lime green pillows don't match the bed sheets because he arched an eyebrow up in suspicion when he laid eyes on them.

"They were on sale," I explain.

He nods, now understanding. Eventually he's going to learn that I don't exactly like to spend much money… on anything. Why pay so much for something when you can get the same thing just as good at a cheaper price? Sure it doesn't have the designer name sewn onto it, but it does the job and that's all that matters, right?

Okay. Obviously I've spent way too many years cutting coupons for grocery shopping.

Blame my dad. He's the one who gives me barely a food budget for the shopping and expects food in the house.

"About your chemistry problem," Satoshi grabs my attention. "Did you ever figure out what those two things in chemistry were?"

"Oh! Yeah… I can't seem to find the difference between a solvent and a solute—or was it solution?"

"A solute is part of a solution. A solution is a homogenous mixture composed of the solute and the solvent."

"Oh." I blink. "Okay."

"To put it simply, a solute dissolves in a solvent, which is a liquid that forces the solute to dissolve. They form a solution. A good example would be saltwater. It is composed of salt and water. Salt being the solute and water being the solvent."

I just stand there, staring.

"Do you," Satoshi looks slightly uneasy, unsure if he approached the answer in the right way. "Do you understand?"

Slowly, I confess, "…No."

"Solute dissolves in a solvent."

"Okay."

"They form a solution."

"Okay."

"Get it?"

"Well, that, yes… but what is the difference? I don't understand. A solution is a homogenous mixture, so shouldn't that mean that the two substances used are the same? Because if they're different, then that means it's a heterogeneous mixture, right?"

"No, you're confusing the prefixes."

"I am? I'm pretty sure 'homo' means the same and 'hetero' means different."

"They do, but you are confusing them in the context of the situation. A homogenous mixture is virtually the same throughout the entire time, and is also relatively smooth. Meaning, you can't exactly notice that there are more than two substances in it. However, in heterogeneous mixtures, you can—almost—immediately detect that there are more than one substance, implying that they are significantly different."

I hate chemistry.

"Would you like me to repeat it again?"

"Yes."

"Homogenous: The same; looks smooth. Heterogeneous: You can tell there are different substances, kind of like pepper, but not exactly."

"Now why can't you say it like that the first time?"

"I thought you would be able to understand me."

"I probably can on paper, but not verbally."

"Is there anything else?"

"So… a solute dissolves in a solvent and a solvent is just the liquid that makes the solute dissolve?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

I sit down on the opposite end of Satoshi on my bed, placing a pillow on my lap and crossing my legs under it. I squeeze the pillow just a little as I hunch over, going through everything about chemistry that I know and that I don't know. See, I have a chemistry test tomorrow, so I really want to know the difference.

"Anything else?" He asks.

"Um…"

Thursday, 4:59 PM

"You aren't serious are you?"

"Check for yourself if you don't believe me." Satoshi shrugs, acting all too confident. "There is not a single J used in the Periodic Table of Elements."

Suspicious, I check the back of my chemistry book and find out that… yes, he's right. _Again._ Sigh… Oh well. I'll get him one day. For now? I just tease, "You have _way_ too much time on your hands to notice a small thing like that."

"Sometimes there's nothing to do at the office."

"So you look for missing letters in the Periodic Table of Elements?"

"Apparently."

Closing my book, I'm happy to finally finish all my homework. I tried to have other people do it for me by bribing them, but with no Dark and nothing worthwhile, my bribery has been lacking the past few… months. Why can't people want pictures of _other_ people besides thieves that are virtually impossible to catch?

Yes.

For the past few months, I have been actually doing my homework.

It feels… very… weird.

"And I'm done!"

I sit there, waiting for a response, but because Satoshi is not used to the whole small-celebration concept, he does nothing but continue scribbling notes down in his notebook. I clear my throat, cuing him, but he doesn't get the signal.

"You're supposed to clap."

"What for?" He doesn't even move his head, just talks.

"Because—" And before I humiliate myself, I cut myself off and change the subject. I'm getting better at predicting the Satoshi-Attacks, those menacing counterattack insults, or… more commonly: The Hiwattacks!

"Because… what?"

"Nothing, I forgot." I reach under my bed, pulling out a large folder and hand it to Satoshi. "Here. Look over this."

"What is it?"

"It's our schedule of all our dates, with locations and everything. Look! There's even little stickers for the special ones."

"The special ones?"

"Yeah, like our one-month anniversary and our first kiss and—what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

He's dramatically blinking with his glasses just barely staying on his face at the tip of his nose, as he looks up to me, chin down and eyebrows avert. Clearly he's thinking something I'm not thinking about. Not that that's a new feeling or anything, but I don't normally get the "wtf?" looks.

"Just pick out the dates you want to pay for," I fuss. "And don't be smart and pick the free ones. Those are in green."

"You…" He looks over the schedule, "You color-coded them."

"The ones with the yen signs are the money ones obviously, the exclamation marks mean that they're important and/or create a new stage in the relationship, the question marks mean it's a free-for-all, and the rest is just whatever."

"…Free-for-all?"

"We can do whatever we want on the date. We don't have to worry about anything."

_**Satoshi**_

_/It seems, my everything, he has your fate planned./_

_What fate? It's only two and a half months._

_/Only? He is so amusing. Let's keep him./_

_He's not a dog. Don't treat him as if we can buy him at the pet store._

_/Surely we can still treat him as a pet./_

_There is no "we" when it comes to your desires—and no, treating him as a pet is not suitable._

_/Oh Satoshi-sama, have some fun… Imagine the wonders, the power. He will give you whatever you please. The control you have over the boy is endless because without you… his article is nothing./_

_I don't think Takeshi is that desperate to write his article._

_/Was he not the boy who volunteered his virginity to you in order to do so? Hmm?/_

_It was probably a tactic._

_/Deny all you want, my love, but you and I both know you've thought about taking advantage of your power./_

_**Takeshi**_

He's totally spacing out on me…

"Yo, dude, Satoshi." I snap in front of his face. "Are you reading the schedule?"

"Hmm?" Getting back into reality, he replies, "Oh. Yes. Hold one minute."

_**Satoshi**_

**FIRST WEEK:  
**¥ Wednesday, April 2, 2005—! _First date: Tori-komachi, 7-9 PM  
_Thursday, April 3, 2005—!? _Bonding Day  
_Friday, April 4, 2005— _Annual Japanese Police Department Party, 7-10 PM  
_Saturday, April 5, 2005— _Eco-Friendly Fair, ALL DAY  
_Sunday, April 6, 2005— _Day off, 1st article to __I Like Brains_

**SECOND WEEK:**

Monday, April 7, 2005—! _Publication of __I Like Brains 1__, Achieve comfort level with Satoshi  
_Tuesday, April 8, 2005—? _Couch and movie date, test out "snuggling"  
_Wednesday, April 9, 2005— _Visit Satoshi's house (study date?)  
_Thursday, April 10, 2005—!? _First phone call from Satoshi  
_¥ Friday, April 11, 2005—? _Second date: Mochi Mochi Bakery; Shinobi Art Museum, 3-4 PM  
_Saturday, April 12, 2005— _Day off  
_Sunday, April 13, 2005—!? _Third date: Walk in local park, first kiss (second?), 2nd article to __I Like Brains_

**THIRD WEEK:**

Monday, April 14, 2005— _Publication of __I Like Brains 2__, test out holding hands (optional)  
_Tuesday, April 15, 2005—! _Dinner at my house, "meet the parent(s)"  
_Wednesday, April 16, 2005—? _Relax, Bonding Day 2  
_Thursday, April 17, 2005— _First phone call TO Satoshi  
_¥ Friday, April 18, 2005— _Fourth date: Lambruscho's Garden, 8-10 PM  
_¥ Saturday, April 19, 2005—! _Fifth date: Picnic at the Sakura Fields, 5-7PM (note: supposed to be sentimental)  
_Sunday, April 20, 2005— _Day off, 3rd article to __I Like Brains_

**FOURTH WEEK:**

Monday, April 21, 2005— _Publication of __I Like Brains 3__, test out signs of affection  
_¥ Tuesday, April 22, 2005— _Sixth date: Violin Masters, 7-9 PM  
_Wednesday, April 23, 2005— _Earth day! Help Riku recycle.  
_Thursday, April 24, 2005—! _Dinner at Satoshi's house, "meet the parent(s)" (or not)  
_Friday, April 25, 2005—!? _Couch and movie, try out "make out" (…optional…)  
_Saturday, April 26, 2005— _Shopping? (I ran out of ideas)  
_Sunday, April 27, 2005— _Day off (I seriously ran out of ideas for this week), 4th article to __I Like Brains_

**FIFTH WEEK:**

Monday, April 28, 2005— _Publication of __I Like Brains 4,__ test out "couple flaunting"  
_Tuesday, April 29, 2005—!? _Relax, Bonding Day 3  
_¥ Wednesday, April 30, 2005—? _Seventh date: Hiroshi's Ice Cream Diner, 6-7 PM  
_Thursday, May 1, 2005— _Day off  
_Friday, May 2, 2005—!? _ONE MONTH ANNIVERSARY Eight date: Dinner in the Theodore Greenhouse (Contact: Yuki Lee), 8-10 PM  
_¥ Saturday, May 3, 2005— _Ninth date: Amor y Esperanza: Un Restaurante para el amantes. __(Really fancy Spanish restaurant) 8-10 PM  
_Sunday, May 4, 2005— _Day off, 5th_ _article to __I Like Brains_

**SIXTH WEEK:**

Monday, May 5, 2005— _Publication of __I Like Brains 5,__ test out "jealousy level" (tell me how jealous you would be if you actually liked me)  
_Tuesday, May 6, 2005— _Grocery shopping! (Okay, so it's not really a date, but by this time I'm going to need to, so… might as well take you)  
_Wednesday, May 7, 2005—!? _Couch and movie at YOUR house, test out "groping make out" (…only because I think that's the next step…) (…still optional…)  
_Thursday, May 8, 2005—!? _Relax by water fountain, demonstrate our hobbies, Bonding Day 4  
_¥ Friday, May 9, 2005— _Tenth date: Mini-golf! 7-9 PM  
_Saturday, May 10, 2005— _Eleventh date: Beach, MORNING  
_Sunday, May 11, 2005—!? _Bonding day 5, relax at my house, 6th article to __I Like Brains_

**SEVENTH WEEK:**

Monday, May 12, 2005— _Publication of __I Like Brains 6,__ test out different types of "girlfriend clichés" (as to give an idea for all kinds of girls on how Satoshi would react to them)  
_¥ Tuesday, May 13, 2005— _Twelfth date: Maximum Hormone concert (got free tickets from Dad)  
_Wednesday, May 14, 2005— _Hang out at your place  
_Thursday, May 15, 2005— _Day off  
_¥ Friday, May 16, 2005— _Watch a movie at an actual theatre (finally)  
_¥ Saturday, May 17, 2005—? _Trip to Tokyo!  
_Sunday, May 18, 2005—! _Thirteenth date: Breakfast at my house; 7th article to __I Like Brains_

**EIGHT WEEK:**

Monday, May 19, 2005— _Publication of __I Like Brains 7,__ test out different ways of "flirting"  
_Tuesday, May 20, 2005— _Couch and movie (I would give a test, but I think after groping comes sex and… uh, yeah, NO)  
_Wednesday, May 21, 2005—!? _Teach you how to cook  
_Thursday, May 22, 2005—!? _Teach me how to paint  
_Friday, May 23, 2005— _Day off (I have a dentist appointment…)  
_Saturday, May 24, 2005— _Walk in the local park  
_Sunday, May 25, 2005—? _Whatever we want to do; 8th article to __I Like Brains_

**NINTH WEEK:**

Monday, May 26, 2005— _Publication of __I Like Brains 8,__ no tests  
_Tuesday, May 27, 2005—! _Fight scenario (the people need to know what it's going to feel like)  
_Wednesday, May 28, 2005— _Day off (we're "not talking")  
_Thursday, May 29, 2005—! _Reconciliation! We're making up!  
_Friday, May 30, 2005—? _Couch and movie at your house  
_¥ Saturday, May 31, 2005— _Picnic at local park  
_Sunday, June 1, 2005— _Day off, 9th article to __I Like Brains_

**TENTH WEEK:**

Monday, June 2, 2005—!? _TWO MONTH ANNIVERSARY; Publication of __I Like Brains 9,__ skip school and spend time with each other (goof off, I guess)  
_Tuesday, June 3, 2005— _Dinner at your house  
_Wednesday, June 4, 2005— _Dinner at my house  
_Thursday, June 5, 2005— _Day off  
_Friday, June 6, 2005— _Couch and movie  
_¥ Saturday, June 7, 2005— _Last date: Tori-komachi (I'm a sap, I know)  
_Sunday, June 8, 2005— _Relax, spend the day together maybe? 10th article to __I Like Brains_

**ELEVENTH WEEK:**

Monday, June 9, 2005— _Publication of __I Like Brains 10,__ end relationship_

It's not something one would read on a daily basis, to read a day-by-day schedule for the next ten weeks of my life with a boy I agreed to be in a relationship with over an unknown value. At times I wondered how I ever agreed to this, and especially wondered on why I thought this was a decent plan to follow (without harm and such) when every single one of Takeshi's plans have failed, whether it be for Dark or some other newspaper nonsense.

"So," Takeshi hunches forward, pointing at the folder, "what do you think? Is it good? Do you have any days you can't meet me?"

"No," I nod. "I can meet you on every one, but I must warn you."

"Hmm?"

"I might get called from the agency for an emergency, or if Dark is to steal one night, I have to be present at the scene."

"Oh! I understand." He grins, "Besides, if you have to go for Dark, I'd go with you. It's a win-win. You try to catch him, I try to report him. See? It works."

"If only all relationships were so simple." I roll my eyes.

He jerks back for a moment, gasps, and reaches down to his night table, pulling out a little notepad, which he then reads aloud what he's writing, "Surprise… calls…"

"Surprise calls?" I ask.

"Well, if girls are going to date you, then they're going to have to know that you're not always going to be able to stay and/or make it. Business calls."

"You can't report everything about this relationship."

He chuckles, swinging his legs off the bed and bouncing onto his feet.

"Yeah, I know. I'm just going to reveal the main points, the key things people should know if they're going to date you."

"I love how you assume I'm going to go on a dating rampage after this article."

"You _know_ girls are going to try to date you even more after this article now that they know what to _do._"

"Oh? And how is it that I will be so easy to catch?"

He reaches over and pinches my cheeks, "Because you said yes to me when I faked a pout. _Who's _a sucker? _Whooooo's _a _suck_errrr? _You_ are, yes you _aaaaare!_"

I grab his wrists, unpleased with his wont to pick at my nerves. Like a Cheshire cat, a smile scissors its way onto his face as he gently sets my cheeks free and lazily flips his hands back. He puckers his lips slightly when he says, "Aww… Is the little genius plotting my demise because I called him an idiot for falling for the first trick in the book? How _cuuuuute!_"

"Have I done something unjust to you that you feel the need to take revenge?"

"Nah," He shrugs, "You should know by now that I just like teasing you."

"A little too much," I add.

"It's only because I _loooooove_ you."

He lunges forward, attempting to hug me violently, but he caught me off guard, so we ended up falling backwards onto his bed. I curse under my breath, dreading the sound of his mocking laughter beating against my ears. Instead of getting off of me, he only stays where he is—on _top_ of me—and rests his hand and head on my chest like a kitten about to pounce.

"You need to lighten up."

"You shouldn't attack people."

"I was hugging you," he giggles out, clearly translating it into a lie.

Stoically, I glance up at him, not bothering to move—because honestly, what's the point? He would only pounce again and the process would have to start all over again, and I really don't want to go through that. So, dryly, I say, "You should hug more lightly."

"Yeah, yeah." Barely giving it a second thought, he switches topics before I could enforce my sarcasm onto him. "So, did you see any dates you're willing to pay for? Most of them are free, so it's not so bad."

"There were twelve dates that required cash. I paid the first one, so I suppose I'll have to pay for five more dates."

"Okay." He fidgets a little until he gets comfortable. "What do you want to pay for?"

"I'll pay for that Italian restaurant."

"Lambruscho's Garden?"

"Yes."

"All right." Reaching over for his folder, he retrieves it back to my chest, scratching the edges of the folder and papers inside against my chin and takes out a pen from his pocket to make a little note. "Apple. I'll mark the dates that you'll pay for with an apple."

"Why an apple?"

"First thing to come to mind."

"So when you think of me, you think of apples?"

"No. When I think of you, I think of blue unicorns getting attacked by zombies in a tulip field."

Let's digest that for a moment, shall we?

_/Well, that's an interesting fantasy./_

All right then.

"_Excuse_ me?"

"Well, see, one night I was sleeping and I had this dream, right?"

"As you should every night of the week, Takeshi."

"Yes, well, this one dream was about you, but you… like, turned into a blue unicorn."

"I don't think I want to finish this story."

"No!" He stifles his laughter while trying to sound serious, "You were a happy blue unicorn, frolicking and stuff. You even had glasses, but they disappeared sometimes because they were rebels. Don't ask. It made sense in the dream."

"My glasses were rebels. Sure."

"And so, you were skipping around a tulip field when suddenly you wanted to drink some water. So you started walking over to the lake, but these zombies came out all like _'I wanna eat your braaaains' _and stuff, right? And you tried to fly, but that's stupid because you should have known that you were only a blue unicorn, not Pegasus, but it's okay. A lot of people get them confused. I wish unicorns could fly."

"So now, being scarred from this dream, whenever you think of me, you think of—"

"—of blue unicorns getting attacked by zombies in a tulip field."

"…Right."

"What do _you_ think when you think of me?"

"Ritalin."

"Hey!" Straddling me now, he playfully punches me. "Bastard."

"Yes, well, I'll also play for the Violin Masters concert."

"Mmhmm."

"The Spanish restaurant."

"That one is really expensive," he warns. "You sure?"

"It's not a problem."

Earnestly, he smiles and makes an apple on the third of May, an exact month from now. Once done, he looks up and asks, "You need one more."

"The trip to Tokyo."

"That's way too expensive. We'll both pay for that one."

"I'm making you pay for the greenhouse date, which I don't know how you'll manage, but okay. And also, the two picnics you have us scheduled for."

"Yeah, but—"

"They're all fairly expensive."

"It's _Tokyo,_ Satoshi."

"Then why did you schedule it?"

He grows flustered for a moment before he responds, "Well, it's… uh, International Day Against Homophobia, and there's always this big event in Tokyo, lots of sales and stuff—and if you're gay in a couple, you um… get discount prices."

"…You're using me for shopping sales?"

"We need a new blender, damn it!"

I sigh.

_**Takeshi**_

Thursday, 6:24 PM

Somehow we had managed to get ourselves in a comfortable position on my bed, where I laid pressed up against his chest under his left wing. I'm not sure if we were both comfortable with this position, but I am pretty sure that the only reason why we're not moving away from each other is because we're too lazy to move and get comfortable in a different position. His chest makes a good pillow anyways.

"This bonding day of ours is riveting."

"Shut up." I jab lightly. "You're not telling me anything new, so of course we can't bond."

"You aren't revealing anything about yourself either."

"What do you want to know?"

"Whatever you're willing to share."

"Hmm," I think for a moment. "Well, as much as I hate the parties the agency holds, I'm still happy to go to them."

"Why?"

"I don't see my dad much, so when the parties come, I'm happy to spend a little more time with him. He's always doing cases and his hours make it almost impossible to catch him."

"I see."

Peeking up at him, I ask, "Is it the same for you with your father?"

"I rarely see him." He pauses. "He doesn't necessarily live in my apartment."

"What?"

"Generally, when we speak, it's in his office."

"So, you're all alone in that place?"

"Most of the time," he answers, not sounding saddened by this at all.

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"Well, I've been an orphan for most of my life, Takeshi. Solitude is not my enemy."

"I'm not saying that, though. I'm used to being alone too, so it doesn't really bother me much if I have to be. I mean, it's why I love reporting. I have to be alone and investigate on my own to get my story without anyone's help. It's pretty nice. Yet… I at least like the comfort of knowing that my father lives in my house and could be there for me."

"That's depressing."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Your word choice."

Sitting up and leaning on my right hand, I peered down on him.

"Explain."

"You're used to being alone, meaning it wasn't your choice but an adaptation you were forced to live with. It doesn't bother you 'much,' but it still bothers you because you _have_ to be. You love reporting because of the solitary aspects, which may be because you enjoy being independent, but at the same time, you understand you need to be independent. You like reporting because you know how to do it, because your mindset was trained to be that way. However, the most depressing part of your answer would have to be when you say that you father _could_ be there for you, not necessarily _will._"

I don't know how to answer. It's a frustrating feeling; angry because you weren't trying to mention any of that but sad because none of it is a lie. And like most people who refuse to admit their issues, I just resort to my defensive state, which isn't angry but more of…

"Satoshi, you're analyzing too deeply." I chuckle. "I like reporting because it's _fun_. And my dad is there. It's not so sad, okay? I'm not some neglected boy."

Laying down and returning to my position under his left arm, I rest my head on his chest again and look at the headrest of my bed. He doesn't respond to what I retaliated with, but instead taps my shoulder with my notebook.

"You should take note that meeting my father will have the chances of a million to one."

"I've met your father plenty of times."

"You don't count. Your father works in the agency, so you have to meet my father every once in awhile."

"He's kind of creepy." I jot down his point anyway. "Always acting nice, but has eyes in that psycho-killer sort of way."

"Thank you for calling my father a psycho-killer."

"I said his _eyes._ Totally different, Satoshi."

And just now I imagined eyeballs stabbing people.

"Takeshi—"

As both Satoshi and I lean our heads back to see who's at the door, I almost die when I see my father at the door looking back at us cuddled up together on my bed. It doesn't exactly seem like an assignment Satoshi and I are doing for the newspaper anymore.

"Ahem."

I'm too scared to move and Satoshi is just too lazy.

"Yes, Chief?"

"Yes, well, I'm going to start going." Dad does a little hitchhiking thumb and continues, "Takeshi, could you do me a favor and get my suit ready for tomorrow's party?"

"Sure," I grin, lopsidedly.

"Okay, um," He observes our position one more time. "I… guess I'll be going."

"Okay."

"Bye, Hiwatari. See you tomorrow and congratulations on your reward."

"Thank you, Chief."

I think Dad expected us to move away from each other at his sight, which would explain why he kind of twitched when he left. This article is going to create tension between my father and me, isn't it?

"We're to wear suits tomorrow at the party?"

"Hmm?" I register his question. "Oh. Yeah, if you want. You're supposed to dress nicely. It's not like my dad is going all out it. He always wears suits, but he never irons. No time. So when he has to dress nicely, he irons. It makes a different, believe it or not."

"And I suppose you will be wearing fitting clothes."

"The school does not know the definition of the word 'medium,' okay?"

"What will you be wearing anyways? I don't see you in anything much besides your uniform and some JPD shirts."

"Oh, um… Black slacks and this blue button-up shirt. I don't really do much. I always end up getting annoyed with the cuffs around my wrists and roll them up to my elbows anyways, so I'll just do it ahead of time."

"Wear a tie."

"Ties are for conformists," I stick out my tongue.

"Ties look decent with button-up shirts."

"But they bother your neck."

"Not if you put them on right."

I shrug, "I'm tie-challenged then, but I'll wear a vest. A nice black vest to match just to make you happy, okay?"

"Fine."

"You excited to get your reward?"

"Not exactly."

"Well, do you have your thank-you speech ready?"

"Somewhat, yes."

"What is it?"

He winces and recites it.

_**Satoshi**_

"Thank you for giving me the honor to accept this reward. I'm grateful for having the delight to know you all in the agency and absolutely thankful for gaining all your trust in leading the investigation of the great Phantom Thief and other major cases. Thank you once again."

Friday, 9:34 PM

_/Disappointed in your reward, my love?/_

_It's a piece of marble with my name on it. I'd rather have Dark in my clutches._

_/I'd rather have him dead, but we all have our differences./_

"Congratulations on all your hard work, Commander."

"Oh, thank you." I turn around only to jump slightly when I see Takeshi grinning behind me. "Takeshi? I thought you were with your father."

"He went to discuss a case with Otonashi and Junbai. So, now I'm just answering questions to people who really don't care."

"And so you decide to harass me?"

"I was just congratulating you," He spun on his heel, "but… it's okay. I have to go back over to where I was. If you want to talk, I'll just be over there trying to act polite."

Without giving me a chance to hold the conversation, he walked over to the group of young officers, all male, who were training to become detectives. His posture was proper, but his walk was hesitant complimented with an arrogant effeminacy. The way he swayed his hips while he held his shoulders back defined a total sense of self-confidence.

_/Enjoying his figure?/_

_Excuse me?_

_/You've yet to take your eyes off him even though he's clearly speaking with another group of males. Ah… feeling the sting of jealousy, hmm?/_

_No. Why would I be jealous? And shouldn't you be possessive over me as you are with everything else?_

_/Well, considering all things, I rather like our little puppy. He could be useful./_

_Useful for what?_

_/He is under your control, Satoshi. I've told you this before. Our little playful pup will obey your wishes./_

_If I ask Daisuke to do something for me, he would. Why don't you have a liking towards him also?_

_/Because Daisuke is an idiot. The brat has no worth in himself. He can't even walk up a flight of stairs without falling down—and yet he somehow never cracks his head open. At least with the puppy, he's intelligent enough to manipulate you into a situation where he has a passive-aggressive control over you, Satoshi-sama./_

_Did you not just say I was the one in control?_

_/It's balanced, Satoshi. He controls you in the sense that you must be with him for his desired time, and you are to follow his schedule. However, at the same time, you may do whatever you wish otherwise./_

_You are turning this into something much more than it is, Krad._

_/I'm having my fair share of fun. Be thankful I've yet to gain control to have even __**more**__ fun./_

Skimming through the crowd of people, I settle my eyes onto Takeshi once again, who doesn't look too confident anymore. Awkwardly, his gestures and countenance portray the emotions he holds, which seem to scream how much he wants to leave the group of officers he's talking to.

_/It seems our puppy is uncomfortable./_

_Something is wrong._

Wednesday, 12:32 PM

"_Be thankful you don't have to respond to idiotic officers about cases they should have solved on their __**own**__."_

"_Be thankful you don't have to get hit on from them."_

Friday, 9:42 PM

_He's getting harassed._

_/Ah, the troubles of a charming boy./_

_**Takeshi**_

"So, how old are you now, Sae-kun?"

Fidgeting, I answer, "I'm fourteen, sir."

"Only fourteen?" Officer 298 pets my head, "You seem so much older."

Then why are you _petting_ me, you sicko?

"Yeah," I titter softly, "I get that a lot here."

"One day you'll be a man, Sae-kun." Officer 182 nudges my hip, "Excited?"

"…to become a man?"

"Of course."

"Well, um, sure… I guess."

It might just be me, but I think the officers around me are just a tiny bit, only a little, maybe a tad, uh… _drunk._

"Chief's son…" Officer 384 leans in a little too close. "A beauty, no?"

"Er," I step back, cupping my hands behind me. "Thank you?"

"Don't get too close, Yoh. Wouldn't want to get arrested by his father."

"Just a compliment," Yoh stroked my cheek, making me wince.

The thing about these parties is that I can't exactly fight back because if I do, then my father's reputation gets tattered. For… why would noble officers break the law and try to flirt with an under-aged _boy_, hmm?

Bastards.

"Please don't touch me." So I have to be the polite submissive and use manners.

"What's the matter, Sae-kun? Are you shy? You used to be so lively when you were little."

Gritting my teeth, I reply, "It's Sae_hara,_ thank you, and it would be inappropriate for me if I was lively in this party. This is a formal party. Now, gentlemen, I'll be leaving you now because I don't think my father would appreciate me speaking with drunken men."

"Stay—"

"Officers,"

A hand slips around my waist, pulling me close—and I was about to get ready to punch the hell out of the guy until I realized that that guy was Satoshi. Okay. So… Now I'm the damsel in distress? Great…

"Commander!"

The group of officers, four men who are sobering up now that they've heard Satoshi's voice, all trailed their eyes down to where Satoshi's hand is. Questions are roaming inside their heads as Satoshi pulls me close and whispers inside my ear, "Are they bothering you?"

Smiling to myself, I whisper back, "A little, but I was going to leave."

"C-Commander," Yoh stutters. "I didn't know you w-were…"

"Officer 384," Satoshi cuts him off. "Please excuse Takeshi and I. We're just going to go over to the snack booth, thank you."

"Yes, sir."

Emphasizing the not-so-subtle move of Satoshi, I placed my left hand over his and walked away from him.

"Thanks for saving me," I murmur into his ear.

"As a duty of an officer, I'm supposed to rescue under-aged boys from getting raped."

We arrive at the snack booth, where we then get some punch and continue talking. Considering we were close to the music speakers, I stood close to Satoshi, just under his chin, to hear him and to respond so that we wouldn't have to yell at each other. It seemed perfectly reasonable—until I noticed that underneath the music, not many people were talking as much.

"Satoshi," I stood a little closer. "Is it me or has it gotten quiet all of a sudden?"

"What do you mean? The music is still playing."

I looked over to my right, meeting the gazes of many officers in the agency brutally staring at Satoshi and me. Some are confused, some are amused, and some are just plain astonished at the fact that Chief's boss is dating Chief's son. The drama JPD has, you know… We should so totally have our own reality TV show.

"They're staring at us."

"I'm guessing they've put the pieces together. I suppose it was bound to come out."

"Yes, but… I think I subconsciously made a promise to my dad that this would only be in school, which means… oh _shit._ Quick! Separate! Now!"

"I think it's a little too late for that, Takeshi."

Nervously, I observe the crowd again. They seemed to digest the fact because they all went back to their conversations and such. The officers that would generally like to "get to know me more" didn't even dare to come over to me, some of the daughters glared at us (most likely me though…), and people seemed to treat as us as if we had a force field around us. One guy tried to walk over to us, noticed that we were together, and immediately turned around walking away very fast.

"Hey," I gripped onto Satoshi's shirt, "Okay, even if we're not going to be together anymore after ten weeks, from now on… when we go to these parties, you and I are together. We're together forever in these gigs, okay?"

Satoshi nodded, too noticing the comfort of having a "significant other" in these occasions.

"I'll agree to that without payback gladly."

"Takeshi,"

"Hmm?"

Dad.

"Takeshi," Dad shifts his eyes, nervously smiling as he leans down to me. "Takeshi, what are you doing…?"

"What… do you mean, Dad?"

"Everyone is talking about how you and Satoshi are together."

"We are—"

"You said it was for _school,_" I guess I deserved harsh tones now. "You said _nothing_ about how you two were going to behave this way for everywhere _else._"

"Well, I have to pretend like he's my boy—"

"Don't say it. People are watching."

"Chief, it's better if we said so besides. People tend to harass us—"

"Being together won't stop that. It never stops that! You twits! You know Raina and all the like love these sort of things. Oh, for crying out loud—Takeshi, why are you so calm about this? Why are you smiling? You stop this smiling. Stop it. _Stop it._"

"Dad, we'll be fine."

"You _sure_ you aren't gay?"

Bobbing my head, I answer reassuringly, "It's only temporary this relationship."

"Ugh, fine. I have… I have to go settle some things. Behave, you two."

He leaves us.

"Well," I place my cup down, "I'm bored of standing and talking."

"Is this some form of hint that you would like to dance?"

"Who said anything about dancing?" I tease.

He holds out his hand, rolling his eyes.

"Just come."

"Why thank you, kind sir."

_**Satoshi**_

Friday, 10: 22 PM

With my hands on his hips and his on my shoulders, we dance ecliptically on the ballroom floor. There isn't much talking because we don't really feel like it, or if we do, it's in glance exchanges.

"So, do you know when they started dating?"

Like now.

Takeshi dipped his head down just slightly before peering back up at me with a bashful expression, detailing his shy reaction on their need to continue gossiping about our relationship. I nod, twirling Takeshi by accident since it was the way I learned the particular dance. So, when I brought Takeshi back to our former position, I should have expected his weak glare.

"I'm not that much a girl," He whispers. "We didn't agree on twirling."

"Just admit that you love the feeling of spinning."

"And they're so cute together!"

Takeshi, even more embarrassed to hear such a statement, buries his head into the crook of my neck to hide from the gossiping women. He mutters into my collar, "Why can't they talk about someone else?"

"They're probably too excited because cocky little Takeshi is now a shy one."

"And why can't I be shy?"

"Because you're the reporter," I say. "You grew up here, forcing everyone to learn that you are not scared of the public. That in _fact,_ you want to _know_ the public so that you can report it."

"I knew there was a flaw in my determination…"

"So now that they're seeing you all bashful and shy about dating someone, well… certainly the public is going to want to know _you_ so that they can _talk_ about it. Take it as a form of revenge."

"I always knew those two would get together."

Takeshi groaned, "But do they have to say those things?"

"How the hell could you have known? What? You predicted that they would go gay?"

_**Daisuke**_

Saturday, 10:13 AM

As much as I liked Riku and as much as I was her friend… whenever she was in charge, we were treated as if we were in boot camp.

"Okay!" Riku holds up a clipboard and announces, "Today is the day of the Eco-Friendly Fair, otherwise known as EFF! Now, it is _our_ duty today to gain as much money as we can and to spread the world of what the economy club represents!"

"You represent something?"

Riku glares at Takeshi.

"We are here to make the people happy and make sure they are in peace."

"Oh!" Takeshi waves a hand forward, "So you're _hippies_! I get it!"

"It's people like _you_ that make this world a horrible place, Saehara."

"Hey, hey… I _inform_ the people about the horrible things, okay?"

"Then _inform_ them that they should protect the environment!"

"Fine, but I refuse to sell water to them."

"Water is _good_ for you, Saehara."

I can see the electricity circuiting between their enraged veins.

"What kind of person trying to save the economy is ripping them off by making them pay for water? Water should be free! That's _economic _ethics!"

"What kind of person stalks someone and then tells their story to the whole world!"

"If you knew anything, you would know that we, as reporters, have to _ask_ if we can report a story. We have morals."

"Then you should also know that we're selling water so that we can build up money to make a better budget for the school."

"Yeah, by trying to deceive the people into thinking that the economy club is environmentalists instead of business scammers. I know economics. This whole play on 'eco' is unjust and you know it, Harada."

"I _care_ about the environment."

"Then join an activist group to save it!"

"SHUT UP."

We all look at Risa, who after her outburst perks up and takes the clipboard from Riku and continues for her, "Everyone has their positions. Riku and I will handle the ticket sales, Niwa will handle the ice cream booth, Saehara will handle the balloon popping booth while Hiwatari will handle the booth next to him, which is the hoop-shooting booth. Mitsu will handle the food court with Lee-san and Mao-san. Jenson will take care of the karaoke stage. Hmm…"

Riku and Takeshi are still heated, bickering in the background while Satoshi watches, arms crossed. It's as if he was some sort of bodyguard and moment the two lunge at each other, he would be there to separate them.

_/Does Takeshi fight with everyone?/_

_No. Well, he doesn't really fight with Hiwatari. When they fight, it's more of just bickering with no absolute value. They don't really mean anything by what they say, like it's for fun._

_/And now?/_

_When Harada-san and Saehara fight, they fight. They're both into politics, so they always end up debating seriously about these topics. Saehara always claims that Harada is delusional into thinking she can save the planet by herself, and especially if she thinks she can save it fast while Harada strikes back that Saehara is naïve into believing that by informing people, he'll make the public smarter, that is takes actual force to get the public to listen._

_/Politics. Ew./_

"Okay! Now get to your places!"

_**Satoshi**_

Saturday, 12:38 PM

"Sorry, you'll have to pay three more bucks if you want to pop the balloons again."

"Just one free one?"

"If it's for free, you get no prize then."

"Why not?"

"Because it's for _free._"

"Ugh, fine. I'll leave."

Takeshi leans back on the counter, peeking out of the corner of his eye, catching me watching him. Smirking, he closes his eyes again and yells from his booth, "Like what you see, Mister Hiwatari?"

"I'm enjoying your booth fail in business."

"And have you had any customers?"

"Plenty."

It's true. Girls have been trying to impress me with their lack of basketball skills because what would impress a genius more than their poor athletic skills? Surely not their brains. Oh no. My type is definitely the lovely ditzy girls, who have no interest in the public world whatsoever unless it involves shopping and/or music involved.

"Oh my god! I made it! I made it!"

Awarding a girl her stuffed parrot, I wince when I hear her nasal voice whine, "It's so small. Can't I get something bigger?"

"You'll have to pay more and get another hoop."

"It can be our little secret." She winks at me.

"Hey," Takeshi shouts, "Get away from my man, okay?"

As if struck by the plague, the girl clutches her parrot close to her chest, mutters an apology, and scurries away with her friend, who I didn't even notice was standing with her.

"Take it as a thank you for last night."

"HEY!" Risa rushes over to us, "You guys have to sing at the karaoke booth."

"What?" Takeshi almost fell off the counter. "Uh, I don't sing."

"Yeah, well, Riku said—and she's being nice into letting you and Hiwatari sing together instead of by yourselves."

"_Why_ must we sing?" I ask.

"Well, everyone has to sing. Even Niwa's singing and you know he hates being in front of people."

All three of us look at the karaoke stage, observing Niwa awkwardly holding a microphone to his mouth as he sings, _"I made it through the wil-wilderness… Somehow I made it thr-through… Didn't know how lost I was until I fou-found you."_

"Holy crap," Takeshi stood up, "He's singing Madonna."

"_I was b-beat incomplete. I'd been h-had. I was sad and b-blue…! But you made feel—yeah, you maaaaaade me feel. Shiny and bluuuuuuue…" _

"Don't do it, Niwa…" Takeshi and I somehow orbited to each in fear of Niwa's next move.

And lo and behold, Niwa jerked his hip to the right as he suddenly gained confidence in singing.

"_Like a virgin! Woo! Touched for the very first time. Like a viiiiirgin! When your heart beats… next to mine. Gonna give you all my love boy. My fear is fading fast… Been saving it all for you 'cause only love can last." _

_/Dark's singing, isn't he?/_

_Yup._

_**Daisuke**_

_What are you doing?! Don't thrust your pelvis! We're not actually Madonna!_

_/I'm giving them something worth their money./_

_Do it with your OWN body, you ass! I'm going to get raped because of you!_

_/…No…/_

_You can't even say that honestly, can you?_

_/At least I'm not crawling on the floor…/_

_You're HUMPING the MICROPHONE!_

_/Details…/_

_**Takeshi**_

Satoshi and I are on stage.

Yeah…

Saturday, 12:43 PM

_Riku, after Risa's failed attempt into getting us sing after witnessing Daisuke's performance, walks over to us and clutches my neck. _

"_You're to fucking sing for the fucking public or I'm going to fucking kill you. Okay?"_

"_Why… should…" I gasp. "…we…?"_

"_Because, you idiot, the school needs to save up money so that we can have our school dance. Now, you two are going to see because the public demands it. They saw the rest of the staff and now they want you two because you two are popular with your stupid column."_

"…_So…?" I grab her suffocating hands. _

"_So you two WILL sing."_

_I look over to Satoshi, who sighs once Risa pricks a pencil next to his throat. _

"_I… hate… you…"_

Saturday, 12:52 PM

So, because I know Satoshi hates the entire situation, I decide to be nice. I tell him, "You'll be the back-up singer, okay?"

"And if our song has no back-up singing?"

"Karaoke songs for couples always do. Now, let's see what are song is."

We look at the monitor.

Oh, _hell _no.

"I suppose this is an English karaoke CD."

"I can barely sing English right." I whine. "I sound like a dying turtle."

"…And how do you know why a dying turtle sounds like?"

"Don't ask."

…Mr. Yoshi…

The song starts playing.

"Okay. You're back-up, okay?"

"…Fine."

"_Imagine me and you, I do." _I hate my voice. _"I think about you day and night, it's only right… To think about the girl you love and hold her tight. So happy together… If I should call you up,"_

"Call you up…"

"_Invest a dime. And you say you belong to me and ease my mind."_

"Ease my mind…"

"_Imagine how the world could be, so very fine."_

"Very fine…"

"_So happy together…"_

"Aaaah…"

"_I can't see me lovin' nobody but you for all my life!"_

"Aaaah…"

"_When you're with me, baby the skies'll be blue for all my life!"_

"Aaaah…"

This is a nightmare. I can barely sing the words, Satoshi isn't even _trying_ to sing, and I'm totally lost with what I'm supposed to be saying. I'm singing words but I have no idea what I'm saying. I actually forgot what these mean. Though, it is pretty fun to watch Satoshi monotonously sing his parts, no passion whatsoever.

"_Me and you and you and me. No matter how they toss the dice, it had to be. The only one for me is you, and you for me… So happy together." _I get excited and point to Satoshi, "SATOSHI SOLO!"

He glares and he sings his "solo."

"_Ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-baaaaaaa ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-baaaaaaa. Ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-baaaaaa ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-baaaaaaaaa…"_

This is torture.

_**Satoshi**_

And so passes the excruciatingly long 2:55 minutes of "So Happy Together" by The Turtles.

I notice Takeshi jotting down notes after our performance.

"What is a key fact that your audience must know now?"

"That you can't sing and to never bring you to a karaoke bar—ever," he grins. "And also that you're nice and willing to save someone when they need it."

"Hmm?"

He laughs.

"Yeah. It's what I'm looking for, you know. Everyone knows you as this guy who doesn't really care for anyone, but I'm trying to show people that you do."

"So this article has a moral?"

"Yup!"

Never let your guard down around Takeshi.

"But hey, who knows, it might get spicy…"

He kisses my cheek, "Me-ow."

"For a split second, I counted you as a decent person."

And then he pinches my cheeks.

"_Who's_ a sucker? _Whoooooo's_ a _suck_er? _You_ are! _Yoooouuuu_ aaaaare!"

_/Niwa wouldn't even dare do this./_

_And that is why we have our differences, Krad._

**linebreakerwherethehellismyfatherholyshithesinourhouseithoughthewasoutatthegrocerystoryfatherwhymustyouhidefromme**

Schizo: I hope this chapter wasn't too boring. I also hope this chapter didn't have so many typos. I actually... never... edit my chapters. So, uh, yeah. This chapter might have been rushed, but oh well.

Review Columnist Thingy:

**Hyper Chef: **Takeshi IS a genius, isn't he? I swear, sometimes I wonder why the guy never graduated from Oxford like Satoshi. DUDE, did you even KNOW that? I'm like OBSESSED. I know where the kid GRADUATED from.

**inu-youkai 911: **Thank you! Don't die of anticipaton though! O.o I want to keep you alive. And yes, I -love- going into depth with characters because it gives me the chance to use psychology! ('Tis a psychology nerd here x3)

**KireiRakuen: **No, you have not mentioned how much you absolutely love me, but I'm glad you do. I love you too! x3

**Tenshi of Freedom: **Satoshi and Takeshi are pretty cute together. And Satoshi! What are you doing?! You're supposed to be screwing Take--er... um... You're supposed to be tutoring Takeshi!

**judikickshiney: **Thank you!

**Susumi: **Of course Dark would watch Takeshi and Satoshi "boinking"! That's the best part of being a pervert. XD

**ToastedBread: **I try to make my chapters amazingly cute, so I'm glad you like 'em. You know, I still never understood why you think "Good Boy" is cute, but whatever floats your boat, I guess. XD

**Shadow Vampiress: **Yes... I'll admit it... I love giving Takeshi grief. I love giving all the characters grief. It's too much fun. x3 And I look forward to your Europe fic! PM me when you post it, okay?

**D.N.Angel Lover: **Um... I'm not exactly sure how to take this. You like my story but not the pairing? Well, um, okay. I hope you do stay and change your mind, but I doubt if you could. I'm not sure how you'd still be able to read this fic if you simply don't like the pairing. That's like me reading a SatoxRisa fic, and not because I'm a yaoi fan but because I simply don't understand that pairing. I don't know. Do whatever you like. If you continue to read this, then thank you. Otherwise, I'd advise you to stop for obvious reasons. (I wouldn't want you reading something that you wouldn't like.)

**SutekiKage: **...Where is the grief and drama? XD And yes, their arguments are art. So artistic that I can't even believe I wrote them down after I realize what I just typed...

**voldysXangel: **Hmm... that's odd. I wrote a SatoshixTakeshi fic like that, where they were drunk and then got caught by Daisuke, but... that was like... two YEARS ago, not three months ago. Is it called "Alcohol"? Because if so, then... damn, I've been robbed.

**Azalee: **In the manga, Satoshi just calls Takeshi a fool with all his plans. That's... about it (that I can recall since I don't own any of the books). Otherwise, it's all just manipulation with the things they have in common and their contacts. But yeah, who cares? Thanks for reviewing!

**It's the voices' fault: **Thank you! Hmm... I suppose that is a tough choice. Well, think of it this way. USoA2 provides sex and TaC... doesn't. Heh. That help? XD

**TheFutureMrs.HaruSohma: **"wonderful hunk of wood" XD Yes... that does sound a tiny bit wrong, but in the good way! x3

**chocolatemaltesers: **-le gasp!- How'd you guess? Yeah, Krad will show up eventually and... do stuff... But you'll have to wait!

**YaoiXYuri: **I will try to update as best as I can, love. And who knows? Maybe Krad will get into it faster than Satoshi... -whistles-

**Mae Choquette: **Thank you! I'll try to update as fast as I can!

**Death-note-LMMN: **lol. Thank you! I'll try to update as soon as possible!

**Disco-Dancing on the Roof: **It's okay if you review a little late, I don't mind. Though... is something up? The last two reviews (in total, not this story) you've sounded a little off instead of your general happy-quirky self. Just a little worried.

**Bakura From School: **Thank you! Yeah... I have a habit of writing REALLY long chapters because I always think the readers deserve them. I take too long to update, so might as well give something worth all the time I should have updated in. I try to make my format and writing style unique so as to call it my own, so I'm glad you like it. And thanks for the chocolate! x3

**taichi-dai: **Thank you! Yes, Takeshi acts very cute with Satoshi. x3

**Un-kun and Sasori-danna: **Dude... SARS... Were you on ACID when you wrote this review? XD You didn't even review the freaking story! XD Ah... but I love you, man...

**Bowleena: **Yay! I'm so happy for converting you to the TakeshixSatoshi fandom! We have... uh... cops in leather! O.o Yeah, you love that, don't cha?

Whew... that took me... a good... half hour of my life.

Please review.

Cheers -Steph


	4. Takeshi has a fetish

**Schizo: **I'M ALIVE! Isn't it marvelous?

Well, I think it is.

Yes, readers, I am indeed alive—and no, I actually was never "on hiatus" with story, not one bit. I was simply trying to finish my manuscript, which is actually almost done, and doing _all sorts_ of homework for my AP classes. However, now that I can simply relax, I should be updating more frequently. I don't know how frequently, per se, but it won't be six months at a time, I'll tell you that.

Anyways, I have 7 pages worth of a deleted scene because I thought it was too rushed in, but I'll let you read it anyhow. It'll appear at the end of this chapter, alright?

Besides that, I do hope you all continue with me on this SatoshixTakeshi journey and I thank you all for being so patient with my updating habits.

Keep in mind two things: Takeshi knows Celsius and not Fahrenheit. And: Only some of the "titles" of things mentioned are real, but I won't tell you which.

Oh… And this chapter might not be too funny…

I do not own D N Angel. Such a same.

**linebreakerlisteningtooperaatthemomentladonnaemobilerigolettoitiscalledbutohwellisupposeicouldlistentotechnobutnope**

**I LIKE BRAINS**

_A Column by Takeshi Saehara_

Imagine that infamous bluenette in our school leaning down to your lips, whispering for you to… open the door.

Yes, people, this is my first review of my first week with the beloved Hiwatari Satoshi. We're on a first-name basis, which isn't saying much, and we've actually kissed, but it wasn't even a nanosecond's worth, so there's nothing to be squealing over. Dare I ask how I even managed to score the genius? Well, it's a simple technique called: The Guilt Trip.

Our darling robot does have emotions, and if you play your cards right, he will definitely fall for those puppy-dog eyes and the quivering lip. He likes to save the damsel in distress, so how could it be possible for him to say no to a young, aspiring journalist just trying to get a good grade in school?

And, honestly, that's the only way. He doesn't fall for money, love, threats, clinging and/or stalking, and definitely does not appreciate being bribed with food. He likes food and all, but we can all tell by his borderline anorexic body that he doesn't like food _that_ much. Oh well.

First date was a nightmare, as usual. Everything that could have gone wrong did so gracefully. In fact, Satoshi almost died. Don't fret! He's not harmed… yet.

On the plus side, the conversations were good. For the controversial speakers: You have a plus. A genius doesn't want to talk about celebrities, he wants to talk about politics or things that would make people gasp—which _can_ involve sex. Satoshi can get a little heated in the conversations… not that we were heavily flirting…We're not there yet.

**Satoshi Fact #1:**

His favorite color is raspberry red.

_**Takeshi**_

Monday, 9:45 AM

"Wait… _raspberry_ red?"

I nod, placing a cupcake on my lunch tray. Riku is reading my article while we are getting our lunch, casually criticizing here and there, pointing out where I forgot a comma or something. We're a freaking school newspaper. We ain't perfect, man.

"Yeah," I scoff. "You got a problem with it?"

"No need to get defensive," she retorts. "It's just odd. I mean, you'd think it'd be light blue since his hair is light blue."

"My hair is brown. You don't hear me saying my favorite color is brown."

She folds the paper back up since, really, she only reads the newspaper for my articles so that she can please me. She eventually reads the whole thing in her history class, but it's only out of boredom.

"And why do we have to learn about his favorite color?"

I glare.

"You know, if you're going to criticize, _you_ date him then and then try to cram everything under 300 words, which is really hard to do—and it makes you kind of paranoid with the word-counting tool and then you keep checking it and deleting words that you actually _do_ like there, but you know if you keep it, it'll be 301 or something and that's no good, and then after you completely butcher your _entire_ report, it's suddenly a measly 284 words and, _goddamn it, that pisses me off!_"

"Yeah, sure," She places a silverware wrap on her tray. "When's the next date?"

"Tomorrow, he's coming over to my house for a movie date. We're supposed to test out the cuddling and all that crap."

"Why?"

"Because girls like cuddling."

"Not _all_ girls like cuddling," she growls, punching in her lunch number a little too harshly on the keypad. "God. Sometimes, Takeshi, you are so annoying."

"Hey!" I glare. "Don't go all _Feminist Power!_ on me, okay? I'm the one who gave the whole females-can-pay-for-dates-too lecture on Satoshi."

"He thinks women can't pay for the dinner?"

"Yeah. 'Kept calling me the lady in the restaurant, but he's a hypocrite, you know. We ended up splitting dates."

"That bastard."

"I know!"

"What kind of gentleman _is_ he?"

"Not a very good one."

"So why didn't you include that in the article?" Riku asks.

Punching in my lunch number while simultaneously handing my money to the lunch lady, I shrug and answer, "Well, I thought I should give him some more time before calling him a chauvinistic, hypocritical, coldhearted bastard."

"Right. Right."

_**Daisuke**_

"Hello Hiwatari. How are—" I pause speaking, taking notice of the various items—all of which are raspberry red—surrounding Satoshi. "—you?"

"Fantastic, Niwa," he replies all too sarcastically.

He eyes each and every one of the items around him, almost like a cult to a giant god. There are journals wrapped with raspberry red book covers with matching pencils. Lying next to his feet are pairs of socks all ranging from anklets to knee highs—and some twisted fool even bought him a pair of thigh-high raspberry red stockings as if he's going to wear them. Though, at least it's not the risqué sheer lingerie peeping out of a—you guessed it—raspberry red box with its complimentary bow.

There's a moat of raspberry red around Satoshi.

It's… kind of scary.

_/When the hell did these people go shopping for all this stuff? Didn't they just find out his favorite color this morning?/_

_You obviously don't know the power of Hiwatari's fangirls._

"I've been getting them all morning."

Satoshi sighs as he reluctantly picks up a pair of raspberry red chopsticks and begins eating his lunch. Hey… At least one girl gave him something useful, right?

"You are… very fortunate to have so many people willing to give you gifts of your…" I stare down at a bowl filled with actual raspberries, but continue, "…favorite color."

"Niwa." He harshly looks up at me. "In just a matter of thirty minutes since today's newspaper was released, I have managed to receive twenty-three gifts that all feature the same wretched theme of my favorite color. Because of them, raspberry red is the _last_ thing I want to look at. I have _lingerie_ for crying out loud!"

"_Excuse_ me—" Takeshi walks over to us, apparently overhearing a very awkward sentence, and then notices the flood of gifts. "What the…?"

"_You._"

"Hello to you too, Mister Hiwatari."

Sitting down with Takeshi, I just relax now, waiting for my show to begin. As if expecting some sort of comment, Satoshi hands the lingerie over to Takeshi, who only blushes.

"Well, _Mister Hiwatari,_ we're not even _close_ to _that_ part of the relationship!"

"No, you twit," Satoshi growls. "This is from some girl who read your article. This is _exactly_ why I didn't want to do this in the first place. You reveal a small fact about me and suddenly the whole world decides to suffocate me with it."

"Aww… That's so sweet of them—Oooh! You got raspberries!"

"Don't touch those."

"Why not?"

"They might be contaminated."

"Why would they—"

"Knowing those lunatics, they probably sprinkled some sort of love potion on them."

We only stared at him, hoping he was joking, but he wasn't. He was serious. He really thought someone might have sprinkled a love potion on the raspberries.

_/I always knew the Commander was a psycho./_

"Right…" Takeshi nods, picking up a raspberry anyway. "You do know that in order for a love potion to work, you must _see_ the person you're supposed to fall in love with?"

Satoshi snatched the raspberry out of Takeshi's hand.

"Precisely, and what, pray tell, exactly do you think will happen when you eat this raspberry while _staring_ at me?"

Takeshi grinned devilishly.

"Why, I'll fall madly in love with you, _Mister Hiwatari._"

"I rest my case."

"You're acting foolish. Now give me the raspberry."

"It's too much of a risk."

Takeshi looked away, almost defeated. But just when Satoshi was about to rest the case, Takeshi simply utters out, "Well… then why don't you test it out on someone?"

_**Riku**_

"I… don't get it."

Takeshi is holding a bowl with raspberries up to my lips, averting his eyebrows every so often. Satoshi on the other hand is simply crossing his arms, looking away from us, brooding. And Daisuke is just standing.

"What's there not to get, Harada?" Takeshi says. "All you have to do is eat one of these raspberries while looking at one of those boys over there—or Niwa."

"…_Why?_"

"Oh, well, Satoshi over here is paranoid about the raspberries being covered in some sort of love potion. So, in fear of falling in love with someone, he won't eat them. Naturally, I wouldn't mind eating them, but Mister Hiwatari doesn't want to risk his boyfriend actually falling in love with him. Funny, no? Eat one."

"And what happens if I _do_ fall in love with someone?"

"Well, that's why you can choose who you wish to 'love' or Niwa."

Niwa blushes.

"I… don't know."

Risa giggles, "I think it's cute. I'll eat one!"

"You're willing to risk your love on a fruit, Risa?"

"Yeah?" She gives me a "duh" face and casually pops a raspberry, swiftly turning to the right and stares ahead.

…At a girl.

"_SHIT!_"

I smirk.

"Fall in love yet," I tease, "or has your lesbian desire failed?"

"Oh, shut up, Riku! It was a mistake. I meant to stare at a boy, but she got in the way!"

"Well, _did_ you?" Takeshi interrupts.

"Um, I don't know." She looks back at the girl, "I mean, at least I have some taste with my luck. She's pretty, but um… no."

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"Positive?"

"Yeah."

"How positive?"

"Very."

"…What about now?"

She stares harder, almost trying to have the potion work, and sighs.

"Nope. Nothing."

"See, Satoshi?" Takeshi lightly jabs him. "Nothing to worry."

With delicate fingers, he _shoves_ a raspberry in Satoshi's mouth and then feeds himself. Glaring at Takeshi, Satoshi continues to eat the fruit and mutters something about Takeshi's insanity. In response, the fool only kisses Satoshi's cheek.

"Come on Mister Hiwatari… We have to act like boyfriends, remember?"

"If only I had skills in acting."

Daisuke shyly trails behind as they walk away.

"Bye, Miss Harada."

"Bye Niwa. See you in Literature."

After they leave, I turn back to Risa, who is still curiously glancing over to her eye-lover. She squints a little, stands back, and sighs when nothing still happens. Arching a brow, I ask, "You're not still trying to fall in love with a _girl_, are you?"

She gasps angrily and takes a bit of an awkward pause before exaggeratingly saying, "_No_…"

"Then why are you still staring at her?"

"Just to be sure."

"Weren't you sure before?"

She looks away.

"Risa?"

"Well, I don't know. I mean, I guess I'm sure now."

"What do you mean you _guess_ you're sure?"

"She's kind of hot…?"

My eyes widened.

"But in a totally non-lesbian way," Risa quickly adds. "Well, not that hot girls look like lesbians. I mean, I meant it in, like, that _I'm_ not a lesbian for saying she's hot… because girls can say other girls are hot, you know? I think? Yeah, sure. Totally. I tell girls they're hot all the time."

"No you don't."

"Well… I tell myself that."

"That's vanity, Risa, not doubting your _own freaking sexuality!_"

I scrunch my hair frantically as I try to see where Takeshi, Satoshi, and Daisuke went. What if there was a potion on those raspberries? What if…?

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Risa!" I yell. "Why didn't you mention this when Saehara asked you about the raspberries?"

"I'm not falling in love with her! It was a totally non-lesbian comment!"

"And what if Saehara and Hiwatari fall in love with each other? Huh? What then, Risa?"

She shrugs, as if apathetically, and answers, "Well, is there really so much wrong in that?"

"They're not gay!"

"Well, then they are now."

"Don't you _care?_ Even a little bit?"

"Not really. If they fall in love, won't they be, uh, you know… _happy?_"

I blink.

"But… it… won't be real."

"Who says?" She smirks at me, "They're dating already."

"It's for an article, Risa."

As if the roles were switched, Risa sarcastically laughs at my remark.

"Riku," she says, "I'm sorry, but guys don't date each other for an article, especially if only one of the two gets the benefits. There's something up between them."

"They're always fighting though."

"Maybe it's a fetish thing, some sort of love-hate relationship. Who knows?"

"I guess they do," I murmur.

"Mm-hmm. Besides, I was just kidding about calling the girl hot." Risa scoffs, "You should know better than that. God, you're so easy to trick."

"Am not!"

"But back to Saehara and Hiwatari," Risa giggles slightly. "Oh! Wouldn't it be so cool if the two _fell_ in _love!_ Oh, just imagine it. A real-life fairytale!"

"If by fairytale, you mean a journalistic story about two boys who practically hate each other's guts."

"That's what makes it juicy. Love-hate relationships are all the rage nowadays."

"I do wonder about you sometimes…"

"Oh, shut up."

_**Takeshi**_

Monday, 3:18 PM:

According to schedule, Satoshi and I were to be completely comfortable with being boyfriends, but I decided to have a little "quality time" at my house so that we could fill up any holes between us.

…Okay. That just inspired very awkward images.

Ahem.

Anyways…

So, right now we're walking to my house. It's a fairly silent walk, though I believe that has to do more with the fact that Satoshi is trying to balance all the gifts he actually kept in his hands. He threw most of them away, but when I pointed out that some of the items were indeed useful, he considered keeping some of them. The lingerie was given to some random guy in the hallway though. I know. Lucky bastard. I was totally going to torture Satoshi with that.

…Okay. Again. That just inspired _very_ awkward images.

…

Moving on…

"Satoshi,"

"Hmm?"

"Do you need help with carrying your stuff?"

He shifts the items in his hands and answers, "No."

"My hands are free. I could help."

"I'm fine, Takeshi."

Taking out my notepad, I jot down, "Satoshi… is… a bit… macho… about… help."

"I'm perfectly fine holding my own things."

"Alright…"

Monday, 3:34 PM

He desperately rushes over to my dining table the moment we enter my house and drops all his things on it, kind of scaring my dad, who was innocently eating his shrimp soup when a raspberry shaped eraser fell in it. I chuckle, covering my mouth as I eye the two closely.

Neither of them really wants to acknowledge the fact that the eraser is still in my father's bowl of soup, even though Dad is awkwardly trying to push it to the side of the bowl. Satoshi is simply standing, appearing as if he's debating inside his head on whether or not to go in and take the eraser out. Dad is still trying to push the eraser to the side while eating his soup.

"Dad, just use your chopsticks and pick the thing out."

He does.

"I'm," Satoshi mutters, "sorry about the… eraser."

"It's okay," my father mutters back.

"Come on, Mister Hiwatari," I call. "We have to bond, remember?"

Tensing up, my father glares at Satoshi, who sternly replies in their nonexistent conversation.

_**Detective Saehara**_

Touch him and die.

_**Satoshi**_

Whatever.

_**Takeshi**_

Things are starting off a little slow, considering we're both just awkwardly sitting on my bed not talking to each other. We're staring in opposite directions. He, the window; me, my closet to the right of me.

I guess this is the part that frustrates me most. See, perhaps if I hadn't known anything about Satoshi, this would be slightly easier, but I've known him since I was ten. I know everything in his background, orphanage and all, but it's the actual personality that I've always had to base on observation. The challenge in this article, I suppose, is not necessarily discovering what kind of person Satoshi is, but, well, finding out every small detail that I _didn't _know about him, that I never got to observe.

"I believe boyfriends are required to talk to each other," he says, breaking the silence.

Turning to him, I reply, "That is, assuming both boyfriends are comfortable being around each other."

"I wouldn't see why _we_ of all pairs are _un_comfortable around each other."

"Well, see, that's the point."

He arches a brow, absentmindedly unbuttoning his collar button to breathe relaxingly. Sighing at his lack of understanding, I gently fall backwards on my bed, tilting my head towards him on my left.

"Do you ever consider the fact that this might be weird between us?"

"Hmm," He nods, probing the question. "I suppose changing one's sexuality would be an odd thing to do—it is uncommon, after all. Unless, dare say, you're going to change your _gender_ as well."

I glare, "I'm serious."

"What are you getting at? Our friendship?"

"I wouldn't call it a friendship," I chuckle. "But yeah."

"If you don't want to continue this, we don't have to. Realize that my part is based on a bribe."

"Then why were you about to kiss me on Wednesday? Hmm?"

"I believe it was_ you_ who kissed _me._"

My mouth drops.

"Oh, you are _such _a _liar!_ You were _clearly _leaning down to me to _kiss_ me."

"Only because you were leaning up," he shrugs. "I thought we were changing the schedule."

"I wasn't leaning up," I say. "I was looking up because you were so _close_ to me. I mean, your lips were right in front of my _eyes._"

"Either way, what is your point in all of this?"

Satoshi leans back on the footrest of my bed, crossing his arms as he lifts his leg underneath the other.

"Listen," I sit up. "You and I are going to get to know each other way beyond our comfort zone, far more than we already know about each other, which is pretty decent since we know each other's backgrounds because we grew up together."

"Right."

"So," I hunch my shoulders and ask, "So… that doesn't bother you?"

"Depends on how much I tell you."

"No. It depends on how much I find out."

We look straight into each other's eyes.

"Satoshi," I pause, thinking about my word choice. "Does… Doesn't it scare you, even the slightest bit, that someone might know _too _much about you? That… one day you'll be found out?"

In all true seriousness, he hesitantly answers, "Slightly."

_**Satoshi**_

Monday, 7:28 PM

_/Our little puppy seems to take pleasure in the most morbid of things…/_

Flipping to another page in his novel, _Confessions of To-Be Murderers, _Takeshi excitedly recited out the brief confessions of men and women who would have become murderers had certain incidences not occur—most of which their victims died accidentally or by someone else. It was, apparently, one of Takeshi's most precious books, something he read in his spare time.

"This one is my favorite," he says. "Listen: 'Ten years ago, I found out my girlfriend was cheating on me, so I decided to kill the little slut. My plan was simple. I was to take her to Brazil—Rio, as a matter of fact—and then throw her off the highest floor of the tallest hotel in town and then hide in a brothel for a few days. After some days passed, I would go to the nearest police station and tell the police that she had made me lose face and that this was an affair of honor. By their custom, the Brazilians would have had to let me go Scot-free. I would've gotten away with it, but our first hour there, she got hit by a taxi at the airport and died.'"

_/Well, that's ironic./_

_And disturbing._

"I guess it's because I grew up with it, but I have this odd fascination with murder."

"I can tell," I say.

"I have a lot of books on murder. Psychology books, some notorious murder stories, newspaper clippings, fiction novels based on murder—I have _Sex Crimes,_ a book on murders that involved rape and the like. I have books describing the making of certain snuff films and why people find them interesting. I have this one book with famous quotes by serial killers. I even wrote a serial killer located in Tokyo, and he was actually a pretty nice guy, despite the fact that he killed prostitutes for fun."

I stared, cautiously.

"Oh, but, um… I only read about murder. I don't really like to watch it."

"Why not?"

"The idea, the live representation of murder on film creeps me out. My imagination warps things I see into other things. So, when I watch horror films—which I rarely do—I can never finish the movie because my mind just goes crazy with the vision and the audio. I read about all sorts of murder, so I know what is happening when someone stabs someone else and stuff. I don't know, it's kind of like… when I see it in action, it's as if I can feel it too because now it's… like, two senses going at me."

Takeshi closes the book and places it on his bookshelf, next to the computer. As he reaches up to the top shelf, where it fits neatly between _Spies: The Secret Agents Who Changed the Course of History _and _The Moral Animal: Why We Are the Way We Are: The New Science of Evolutionary Psychology, _he adds, "At least when I read about murders, if my imagination goes too far, I can stop reading."

"You could also stop the movie, Takeshi."

"It's not the same. Visions stay in your head, Satoshi. _Sounds_ ring in your ears. Once you experience it, there's no turning back."

After a few moments of silence, I ask, "Why _do_ you have such a fascination with murder?"

"The intimacy," he says, not once hesitating.

"The intimacy."

"Yeah," he smirks. "There's this peculiar, sexual intimacy in murder. It can be quick and painless or it can be long and excruciatingly tortuous, hearing the victim scream and cry, heart racing—heart stopping—and the contact of flesh and blood intertwined with raw, hateful emotions. It can be between strangers or it can be between lovers. It can be nonchalant, such as giving poison to someone, or it can be passionate, with the murderer stabbing ferociously the life out of his victim. It can be acted upon an impulse, a certain whim of hatred, or upon the maddening length of mental torture until someone snaps.

"You see, murder is always going to be between two people. And only two, like sex. Sure, many people can be engaged, but there is only one man that will end up being the father of the offspring, just as there is only one person who will take the victim's last second."

Takeshi gasps, "God, you must think I'm crazy, don't you?"

_/I can only imagine that suicide would be considered the equivalent to masturbation./_

_No need to fawn over his poetic representation of the dastardly deed._

_/You can't deny his correctness, Satoshi-sama. He is true in saying there is intimacy./_

"Satoshi?"

I question, "So, what are your views on suicide then?"

He laughs.

_/The little puppy provides good company, something worthwhile to listen to./_

_Imagine the conversations you two would have… It's nothing but a quirk, Krad._

_/Quite a fine one. Quite so./_

Caressing his arms, he curves his shoulders up and inward, closing his eyes. After biting his lip and baring a fang, he whispers, "Can you just imagine it? That unbelievable high? That unbelievable fall?"

_/Yes./_

"It's fascinating what a human can do, what power a human has over another's life."

_**Daisuke**_

Tuesday, 11:48 AM

"I think Satoshi thinks I'm a freak."

Takeshi drops his backpack onto the floor, plopping himself in his desk-seat, and slips down to where his neck rested on the edge of the chair. With such a frown, he sighs heavily. And with me shoving a granola bar quickly in my mouth, I ask, "_Wuhry?_"

"Told him about one of my favorite things."

I swallow hard, hurting my throat, but nod, "Oh. That murder-fetish thing?"

"Yeah."

"You have to admit, Saehara, it is kind of creepy."

"I thought him of all people would understand."

"You know who would understand?"

"Who?"

"Goths."

Austerely, he criticizes, "I am _not_ dating a goth. They take murder to another level, a _depressing_ level. I don't find murder depressing, Niwa. I find it…"

"…sexy?"

"And that's why I think Satoshi finds me a freak."

_/He could say he's into that bondage stuff./_

_Not the same._

_/I don't understand you. I critique a girl's body and I'm considered a perv, but the reporter kid talks about how murder gets him off and you don't judge him at all. Like it's perfectly normal, Daisuke. You know how twisted that is?/_

_He doesn't go around killing people, Dark._

_/Yet. He doesn't do it yet./_

"Maybe you're just misunderstanding him."

"He said it was odd."

"Oh. Well. Um." I nervously chuckle, "Maybe he means… 'odd' as in… uh, 'odd'…?"

"You sure know how to cheer a person up, Niwa."

I gasp, "Maybe he thinks it's cute!"

"No." Takeshi shakes his head. "Odd isn't a synonym for cute. Besides, if he thought it was cute, he would _say_ it was cute. We're not girls, Niwa. We don't have some secret code language for what we mean."

"I _heard_ that," Riku yells across the classroom. "Sexist pig!"

"Sexist pig translates into 'You're right, but I'm going to argue anyway!'" Takeshi shouts back.

"No it doesn't!"  
"That's a double negative, so that means _yes!_"

Takeshi is cruel when it comes to grammar.

"_Shut up!_"

"Stop eavesdropping on my conversations!"

As if slapped to look the other way, they sharply turn their heads to opposite ends. Knowing that Riku can't see him, Takeshi scrunches his nose, baring his teeth in a snarl, and rolls his eyes.

"She can be annoying," he whispers harshly. "Why does she have to listen, huh?"

"You two fight a lot nowadays."

"Eh." He shrugs, "Whatever."

He calms down, leans in to me, and whispers, "But he worried me, you know—kept staring out into the distance whenever I was speaking about it, like he kept thinking about something else. Or, he'd nod as if answering a question, but when I didn't even _ask_ a question. Kind of weird."

_/Guess Krad was pissing his pants with joy to find his murder-loving soul mate./_

_Dark! For crying out loud—Don't joke about—That's no thing to—What is __**matter**__ with you?!_

_/Had to be. Just __**had**__ to. I mean, who else do you know that loves murder just as passionately?/_

_Takeshi just likes the intimacy, not the physical action!_

_/Yet. He doesn't like it __**yet.**__/_

…_I'm not continuing this._

"Takeshi, Niwa."

Satoshi sits in the desk just behind Takeshi.

…And then kisses his cheek.

"I thought you," I eye the both of them, "said he thought you were a freak."

Equally surprised, Takeshi says, "I did."

_**Satoshi**_

_Why did you make me kiss his cheek?_

_/An owner should always greet his pet with a kiss. Common courtesy, Satoshi./_

_Get that notion out of your sick head. He is not our pet, Krad. He's a human being._

_/Humans are fine pets. All the more to love them properly—physically./_

"—said you were a freak."

"…I did."

I suppose Takeshi did not expect a greeting kiss this early on in the relationship and thus felt compelled to ask the question, "You okay?"

"Just fine."

"Then…?"

Despite the fact that the kiss was not my idea, I simply conjured up an excuse in advance the moment my lips touched his cheek.

"It's in the notes of the schedule."

"It is?" And just as Takeshi takes out his planner, I place my hand over his arm, telling him, "I wouldn't kiss your cheek otherwise. Part of Monday's task was to adapt to the greeting kisses."

"Oh." He thinks for a moment, but proceeds to agree. "Yeah. That makes sense. Okay."

"You seem nervous today. Anything wrong?"

He grins, shaking his head shyly.

"Um, but… I can't go over your house tomorrow."

"…because?"

He sighs, frowning now, and sits up from his slouching, growing tense. In just a matter of seconds, I had witnessed the apple of my glaring eyes go from a shy boy to a furious monster in front of me. I do wonder how he manages to succeed in such tasks.

"Miyasaki, that damn bastard, called on a surprised newspaper meeting because _he_ has some issues to discuss about the newspaper and some stupid idea he wants us to do, but it's too big of a presentation, so we have to do it after school."

"Oh."

This Miyasaki-character always seems to be getting on Takeshi's nerves.

_/Perhaps we should simply kill him./_

_Perhaps not._

_/I shall have no person mess with our little puppy. Who is this mongrel?/_

_**You? **__What is this "you"?_

"Sometimes I just want to _kill_ him!"

_/Even our delightful puppy wishes the fiend to die./_

_Figure of speech._

He leans over to Daisuke, "One time he stole my badge, _my_ _personal _newspaper badge. The one that Kanagawa-Sensei made for me! But I got it back, of course."

"Maybe he was jealous that Kanagawa-Sensei made you a badge. I mean, I don't think anyone else has one."

"That's because I'm an amazing reporter."

"So is Miyasaki, Saehara."

To this, Takeshi gasps.

"You _traitor! _How dare you say such things!"

"I mean it in a technical way, Saehara."

Daisuke shrugs, taking out a pencil from his backpack to prepare for the history lesson about to begin in a few moments, and curiously looks upward while speaking.

"I always kind of wondered why he always picked on you. Ever notice how he only targets you?"

Takeshi, following Daisuke's lead with the pencil, searched through his backpack, rummaging through the disorganized mass of papers, some green, some white. While plunging his right arm in the pit of schoolwork, he answers while blindly feeling around the bottom of the bag, "Um, no. Why?—Well, I mean, I guess maybe he feels I'm a threat. We kind of get the same stats, but he always gets a little higher."

"So," I interrupt, "he is better than you?"

He glares.

"_No_… He just gets higher stats."

"You are missing a key fact," I point out. "He gets higher stats than you, which should signify a sense of superiority."

"Uh," Takeshi finds a pencil. "Actually, on Wednesday, I got higher stats than he has ever."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, but it was like, once. I mean, I got the stats for yesterday's column today. We got around the same stats, but I find it unfair. I only got my column printed because I had to dedicate all my time in studying our dates and stuff, but, like, Miyasaki printed out four articles."

"And because of that, he got higher stats?"

"Yeah." Takeshi closes his bag after pulling some spare sheets of loose-leaf paper and explains further, "See, the way the stats are worked out—the way that Shiga organizes it—is how many readers give feedback on our total amount of articles. So, if you post more than one article, you get the chance to have higher stats because there's more of your articles to read in that week's edition—or on the proposal edition. Miyasaki usually puts out three or four articles at a time because he's the investigative reporter for the _school,_ so there's _always_ something he can report on."

"Thus giving him the advantage," I infer.

"Yeah, right. See, I was the _local _investigative reporter, of Azumano."

"Wouldn't that involve our school?"

"No. Considering we're not a professional newspaper, we have to divide those two up. There's a school reporter and a local reporter. My job _was_ to report the events occurring around the city. I usually posted around two or three articles, but I was slipping lately in the past few weeks, only posting up one."

"And so, Miyasaki always had the higher stats."

"Mmhmm. He thinks he's better than me, always shoving it in my face that I can't find articles. I'd like to see_ him_ try to report the city. It's hard, you know, when Azumano barely has anything to report on."

Doihara-Sensei closes the door after the tardy bell rings, signaling the beginning of class. Casually, I lean closer to Takeshi's ear, slightly intrigued by this conversation. There is a peculiar suspicion of Miyasaki's actions, for…

"Why would he keep picking on you if he seems to believe he is better than you?"

"'Cause he's an ass."

To be on the safe side, I ask, "Is he any bit harsher with his comments now that you are doing your new article?"

"Oh _yeah._ The dick won't get over the fact that this is just my article and I have to do this or fail the class. Everybody loves the idea—they're actually kinda psyched that I'm dating you because they've always wanted to know who you are as a person, but Miyasaki won't budge. Calling me gay and a fag, stuff like that."

"Typical."

"Hmm?"

"Nothing."

I suppose I would, indeed, have to keep an eye out for Miyasaki. Wonderful.

_/If we simply kill him, no complications need occur./_

_Let's just see what kind of person he is before we consider assassination, alright?_

_/Sigh… If we must./_

"Oh, Satoshi," Takeshi whispers. "Are you bringing the movie tonight or…?"

I narrow my eyes, cautiously.

"So you like the movie, you know. I don't really care what we watch, but I don't want you falling asleep on me or something."

I nod, "Sure. I'll bring one."

"You guys are watching a movie?" Daisuke asks.

"Yeah."

"Saehara. Niwa. Pay attention up front."

Sharply and together, "Yes, Doihara-Sensei."

"Now, Harada-san, what was the cause of the Great War?"

"Oh…"

_**Takeshi**_

Tuesday, 8:32 PM

Dad left an hour ago and Satoshi has yet to arrive.

And I'm still debating on what to wear.

Staring at my closet in nothing but incredibly short boy-shorts (I do it for the breeze, okay? It gets _hot._) and an oversized JPD shirt, which's collar slipped past my right shoulder, I scrunch my lips to the side in intense concentration. I wasn't sure if I should just go into a pair of pajama pants that I only wore in the winter—and it's April, which makes it even _more_ of a reason to wear my shorts—or if I should just simply put on a pair of jeans. Either way, I'd probably be dying of heat.

Or maybe I could just crank down the air conditioner to twenty degrees? That'd be a nice cool temperature. I could do that…

_Ding-dong._

Ah, fuck it. I'm wearing the damn shorts.

_**Satoshi**_

Tuesday, 8:37 PM

Honestly, I'm not sure if Takeshi is wearing anything underneath that shirt.

"Hey."

He gestures me inside his house, closing the door behind me, and fingers the DVD case into his hands, dangling it in front of his face.

"Naked Blood?" He cringes, "Satoshi… I _told_ you I don't like to watch horror movies."

"It was either scaring you to death with this or boring you to death with a documentary on quantum physics and the ways it's developed over the past fifty years."

"…Do you only have two movies?"

"Yes."

He "ugh"s, stepping down the hallway into his living, where he calls out, "Fine, but I swear… you are _not_ allowed to tease me if I get too scared. I get seriously disturbed when I watch these things."

"One would imagine you an adrenaline-jockey when it came to movies."

"Action movies are one thing." He slips the DVD into the DVD player, turning on the television with the remote control, and says, "Horror movies are another."

Once the main menu of the movie comes up, Takeshi places the remote control on the armrest of the sofa, strolling over to me. I'm still not sure if he's wearing any pants under that shirt, but he must have noticed my staring at his legs because he stopped walking.

"It gets hot," he says, lifting his navy-blue JPD shirt, revealing a black pair of, what looks like, typical cheerleading shorts.

"Do they have words on the back?"

Widening his eyes, he blushes and scoffs, "No."

"Why so short?"

"I told you. It gets hot."

He steps inside the kitchen, to which I follow in, and opens a cupboard, which holds various types of plates and bowls in a color-coordinated fashion, smallest plates on top. Standing on his tiptoes, he reaches for a large purple bowl, seemingly plastic, and brings it down to the counter, placing it in front of the microwave. He doesn't say a word throughout this all: taking out two packs of popcorn, opening another cupboard to bring out two red and white striped glasses, pulling the refrigerator door-handle with his left foot open while simultaneously putting a freshly opened popcorn packet in the microwave for exactly two minutes and fourteen seconds, pressing the start button of the microwave, and then leaning inside the refrigerator to pull out strawberry flavored soda bottles.

He turns around.

"Like strawberry soda?"

"Love it."

"Perfect."

He continues his hypnotizing ritual of kitchen duties. The classical song, _Powerhouse,_ comes to mind as I watch this, witnessing the scurrying yet organized movements of Takeshi gradually progress to a rhythmic, almost spiritual, set of paternoster-like whispers to himself.

"I don't have any chips, but I have…" He murmurs to himself, opening his refrigerator once again and bending down to eye-level of the middle shelf. While attempting to not observe a particular part of Takeshi's body, I look around to see what Takeshi is murmuring about.

_/Fairly tempting, isn't it?/_

_Shut up._

"Like carrots?"

"The popcorn should be enough."

"You," He shoots up, banging his head on the freezer door. "—ah, _shit_—uh, sure?"

Immediately concerned, I mutter a yes, walking over to him to check his head for bleeding. He rubs the top of his temple, trying to soothe the pain with the fibers of his hair and waves me off, "Nothing to worry. Just hurts."

"Let me just see if you're bleeding."

He bares his left hand, "See? No blood."

In a way, I feel almost guilty for this happening. My answer was too long, too waited out, and thus disrupting to the intrinsic process of Takeshi's duties in the kitchen. In some vague way, I was the wrench in the factory gears, ruining the flow.

"Come on," Takeshi called, jerking his head in a pointing manner towards the glasses. "Take the drinkss and let's start the movie."

He carried the popcorn and left the kitchen, paused, and then peeped his head back in.

"Well?"

"Sorry."

_**Takeshi**_

Tuesday, 9:02 PM

Our drinks and popcorn bowl is on the coffee table just in front of us while we're sitting—awkwardly, might I add—on my couch, a pillow between us. The previews are playing and the lights are off, with exception to small lamp inside my father's bedroom peering out the door.

I cough.

"Are you comfortable?" I ask.

"Not really."

I give him the pillow, "Here."

"No. I'm just not used to leaning on my right side."

"Oh?" I put the pillow back between us and stutter out, "Do… Do you want to sit on the left?"

"You can sit there."

"I don't actually want to sit, but, um, well… Do you want to sit on the left side?"

"What do you mea—" A scream occurs in the background. We look, noticing it's for a promo for another horror film. Satoshi continues, "What do you mean you don't want to sit?"

"I usually lie down when I'm watching movies."

"Oh."

"We don't have to lie down," I quickly add. "The schedule just says we have to test out cuddling. If you don't like to, we don't have—"

Satoshi moved the pillow to the right of him.

"—to."

"I suppose you want us to try."

"Not if you don't like it." I insist, "If you don't like cuddling, what are the chances you're going to do so in other relationships?"

"If the partner insists or would really like to, I wouldn't deny it at first proposal."

Shyly, I scooted over to him, hesitantly leaning my head on his shoulder. He places his arm around me, resting his palm on my upper left arm. And we sit there.

For, like, two minutes.

"My neck's cramping."

"I think my arm fell asleep."

"Shit, this isn't working."

Satoshi takes his arm back. "Maybe we should change positions?"

"Okay."

Sitting up, I stare at him and he stares at me.

"Um, but… how?"

He gestures for me to, basically, sit on his lap and lean back against his other arm, so I do. Again, for a few minutes.

"I feel… like a freaking baby, Satoshi. Not your boyfriend."

"I feel like a pedophile now that you've mentioned it."

I sit up again.

"Um… maybe I should rest my head in your lap?" I offer.

He disagrees, "I can already see that failing."

"…Right." I offer another idea, "Maybe we should both lean on each other?"

"And what achievement would this produce? We would be using each other as walls."

Sighing, I offer the initial position, "Wanna lie down?"

Begrudgingly, we both attempt this option. With us both lying down on our left sides, we both began the process of finding that "comfort spot." Naturally, with me being shorter, I lied in front of Satoshi, having to keep watch of not falling off the couch, something of which I guess Satoshi noticed because he placed his arm around my waist.

"Hmm?"

"I need to put my arm somewhere," he says. "It's either here or behind you."

I laugh, "Um, okay."

Resting my head on my elbow, I cushion my face into my arm. It is when I notice Satoshi struggling to relax his face that I take my free hand and tilt his head to rest on mine. With no argument, he brushes a few strands of my hair out of his vision and proceeds to relax, joining me in watching the beginning of the movie.

"Feel comfy, Mister Hiwatari?" I tease.

"Yes," he answers. "Fairly so."

Tuesday, 9:36 PM

I wince my eyes.

"Oh my God, that sick bastard," I utter out quickly, trying to keep my eyes open. "He's totally tricking them—oh, oh, _sick!_"

"Well, her vanity is what is causing her to mutilate herself," Satoshi whispers into my ear.

The woman, forgot her name, is stripped naked with a razor blade, trying to cut the hairs off her body to be clean and smooth, but because of that robot-thing, or whatever it is, she's delusional and is cutting off strips of flesh off her body—and oh my _GOD? _Is she trying to… to…

"This is obscene." I cover my eyes, but still in some dark part of my mind, manage to peek through my fingers. "She's… she's…putting the razor in… in… in her…oh _God,_ I think I'm going to throw up."

"You're taking this better than I thought."

"How can you even _watch _this, Satoshi? I mean—"

"Takeshi. Don't deny the fact that if this were all in writing, you'd be dying to get to the next page."

I purse my lips, furrowing my brows.

"That's different."

"Not so much, both are incredibly disturbing to witness."

"Yeah, but—"

"_Ooooh… Feels… so…good."_

My eyes widened at the razor slicing in and out of…

"Oh my God, I can't watch this! How is this even allowed to be put out to the public? Huh? Where'd you _really _get this film, Satoshi?"

Instantly, I turned over, cringing into the crook of his neck and trying to eliminate the images (oh _God,_ the _images_) and the sounds of out my head. The eerie slicing inside—ack! Don't even think about it!

"_Aaaaaahhh!!"_

"Oh God, what happened?"

"She's still slicing."

"The stupid bitch. Why the hell won't she stop? She _knows_ she's dying!"

"Yeah, well, there she goes."

"_AAAAAHH!!"_

"Oh God! What happened now?!"

"She shoved it up pretty far and now—it's gruesome, Takeshi. She's slicing her vagina to shreds, and pretty much dying."

"What? WHAT? What kind of—" Peeking over my shoulder, I realize Satoshi was lying to me.

There is no way to describe the passion of hatred in my eyes.

"You…_sick_…creature."

He smirks, evilly suggesting I not believe everything I'm told.

"How could you just lie to me like that?"

"Oh, it's quite easy to lie to you."

"You are," I gape in astonishment. "God, you are _bas_tard, aren't you?"

He chuckles, shrugging mockingly, "Who knows? I never did quite meet my parents."

"No, you—Ugh. And what's worse is that you _knew_ I don't like horror movies, listened to a whole conversation about my fascination with murder with ex_cept_ion to horror movies, and what do you do? Freaking lie to me about a woman slicing off her vagina."

"I believe I said 'shredded.'"

"That's even worse, you sicko." I glare. "Why are you thinking about shredded vaginas? Huh? Huh? Is that _your_ fetish?"

"A very unrealistic one, wouldn't you think?" He points out. "What pleasure would I gain when the genitalia _I _enter is shredded?"

"Maybe you're an ass-man—I don't know! Can we get off the subject? Now I have shredded vaginas _burned into my brain_ because of you. Freakin—"

"Stop talking, pet."

"_Pet?_ I'm not your freaking—"

In one swift move, Satoshi cups the back of my head and pulls me to his lips, kissing me. It's a soft, tender kiss, followed by the heated exhale of his breathing on my nose. We part.

"…pet," I whisper, finishing my sentence.

Well, that was random.

_**Satoshi**_

_/You were provoking the puppy./_

_So you make me kiss him. That's the way to solve things._

_/He stopped talking, didn't he?/_

_Are you attracted to Takeshi, Krad? This is the second time that—_

_/—that you never fought against me./_

_Excuse me?_

_/With each kiss I've supposedly "forced" you, you've never lifted an arm. Quite the coincidence, isn't it, love?/_

_Don't pin that against me. If I fight back, I'll appear as some sort of twitching lunatic._

_/Never stopped you before./_

"Why do you do that?"

Fixating my eyes back to his, I curiously hum, "Hmm?"

"You daze off, sometimes even jerking your head a little, like you're talking to someone inside that head of yours." He pokes my forehead, but slips his index finger down my cheek, lingering there. "Why do you do that?"

I grab his finger.

"I talk to myself."

"Apparently," he giggles. "So, it's true, huh? All geniuses are insane?"

"I wouldn't declare myself insane, per se."

"Yet, by denying your insanity, it _must_ mean you're insane because only an insane person wouldn't know he's insane because he's _insane._"

"Do you think you're insane?"

"I'm a little crazy in the head," he admits. "But by saying that, then that means I'm _not _saying that, even though there is a high possibility of me being a little crazy. It's a paradox."

"There's a flaw in that logic. Perhaps the lunatic does know this reasoning and thus admits to insanity. Why, with your reasoning, he would then have to be considered sane for accusing himself of being _in_sane."

"Well, that's where common sense comes in. How would someone insane know the logical psychology of _reverse_ psychology when it is written down in stone that a lunatic does not know right from wrong, or proper reasoning for that matter. He's _insane_. He's too crazy to think that logically."

"Wouldn't it be untrue, with so many geniuses becoming insane in this world?"

"No," he disagrees. "A rational genius would just be simply highly advanced. An _i_rrational genius has crossed the line and now delves into this highly advanced world that doesn't make sense because he is over-thinking things and making up reasons for his warped reality."

"Then how am I able to discuss this subject with you?"

He whispers dangerously close to my lips, "Because, Mister Hiwatari, we're _crazy._"

"That explains a lot."

"Mm-hmm."

His finger, which I'm still holding, curls in my grip as he leans closer, tilting his face to near my ear. In innocent curiosity, he coos, "Why'd you kiss me?"

"To shut you up," I coo back.

"Failed, didn't you?"

_/Kiss him./_

"Try, try again."

_**Takeshi**_

Releasing my finger, his hand ghosts down to my waist and gently tugs me closer to him. My hands, fingers curling lazily, just barely cups his face, thumbs caressing his jaw, and pull him closer until our lips do finally meet.

We kiss.

"This means," I gasp, "nothing."

"Just," he kisses me again, "an act of insanity."

"Exactly."

My eyes close, focusing my attention towards the tactile sensations on my lip, primarily the upper lip being suckled. Gently, do I row my teeth on his bottom lip, calling for an open-mouth kiss, which I receive.

Our breaths are hot and he tastes like the strawberry soda I gave him, but I dare not probe my tongue into his mouth. My state of mind has dwindled off somewhere, only surprised by how moist Satoshi's lips actually are, tenderly kissing them as if eating marshmallows.

He shifts himself, putting pressure on my waist, and manages to slip me underneath him under his embrace. Welcoming it, I cradle the back of his neck and arch my chest further, sinking us down the cushions of my couch. His glasses thud on the bridge of my nose, and so I slip them off his face and blindly place them on the coffeehouse, having to lean over.

Satoshi, leaning with me, falls off the couch as a result to this.

"Oomph!"

"Ah!"

Now straddling him after the landing, I laugh into the crook of his neck, listening to him moan in pain. I sit, pressing my palms on his chest, and chuckle out, "Lost your balance?"

Sitting up and leaning back on his hands, he nods, letting his bangs sway in front of his face. I guess his glasses prevent that from happening, and I guess it annoys Satoshi when it does, because he placed on his weight on his left hand to slide his bangs to the side. With my hands sliding down to the end of Satoshi's shirt, my shoulders curve inwards as I cock my head to the side and ask, "Kind of ruined the moment, didn't you?"

"We could continue if you wish."

"May—"

_Click._

"Hey, Takeshi."

My eyes widen at the sound of my father calling from the hallway. My body shoots up onto the couch as if a puppeteer pulled me into place, and I limply sit, too frightened to move. Satoshi, scurrying to his glasses, fumbles with them as he quickly tries to put them back on.

"Sorry," my father rushes into his bedroom as he speaks, "I left some files on my bed and I need to refer back to them. Where's Hiwatari?"

"On—On the floor," I stutter, still scared. "You… You could have called."

"What for?" Dad comes out of the room with the files in hand. He stares down at Satoshi on the floor, arches a brow, and asks, "How'd you get on the floor?"

"Fell."

"Oh." Pause. "Don't break anything."

Dad moves his vision over to me, observing my appearance, and narrows his eyes at my shorts, to which he comments, "Why are you wearing those?"

"It's hot, Dad."

"Not that hot," he mutters. "Change your pants."

"Don't you have to go somewhere?"

"Don't put that tone with me. I said change your pants."

"But Dad—"

He looks.

"Ugh. Fine."

As I'm walking away, I hear my father question my father on the time.

"Ten past ten."

"Why are you here so late?"

"_Dad,_" I turn around, insulted by his interrogation.

"It's a weekday, Takeshi. He should be _home._"

Crossing my arms, I ask, "Since when did you care about curfews?"

"Since you got a boyfriend."

My eyes widen.

"Now that you are 'pretending' to have one, I have to 'pretend' to care. So, no buts about it. Boyfriends go home at ten, Takeshi."

My jaw drops, "That's so unfa—"

"—or I could simply say no boyfriends at home at all."

I guess that means no compromises.

"It's alright," Satoshi says, dusting off his pants after standing up. "It is about time I start heading home. See you tomorrow, Chief."

Following Satoshi, I shut the door behind me to say my farewells.

"Sorry about my father…" I whine, "I didn't think he'd do that."

"Guess he's just getting involved in the role-play."

I cross my arms, but blush soon right after.

"Um, Satoshi?"

"Yes?"

"It's not going to be weird around us now that we've…um, well, you know."

In a cool fashion, he puts his hands in his pockets and turns on his heel to start walking, but looks over his shoulder before doing so. He tells me, "Bring the movie tomorrow, okay?"

Relieved, I say, "Okay."

"And tomorrow,"

"Mm-hmm?"

"I'll be joining you on your newspaper meeting."

"Oh," I blink. "Um, okay. Sure."

He starts walking off.

"Goodnight, Takeshi."

"Goodnight."

Well… that was random.

**linebreakerstilllisteningtothesameoperasongbutmaybesomethingcraywillhappenlikepinkbunniesstabbingchicksintheheartsfortheirpeeps**

**Schizo: **Okay. Sorry if the chapter was a bit boring or… pointless, but this is all in good measure, I promise!

Review Columnist Thingy:

(you guys might want to read your reviews again… or simply skip this…)

(oh, and names might be outdated, but I'm too lazy to check the actual review-pages… forgive me. I'm trying to speed this up to post quickly.)

**Diminished-Temptation: **I'm glad you're enjoying the fic! I try to make my stories seem as plausible as possible, just to make it entertaining. Glad you like it!

**Death2HeartlessSoul: **Your review got caught off! O.o You like long chapters of really _what?_ Really _what??_ Oh, tragedy of lost words…

**SutekiKage: **No… You didn't pop my cherry, Jess. Sorry. And yeah, Krad's a perv. He'll probably seem like a bigger perv in this chapter though. XD

**taichi-dai: **Thank you for all the kind words! I'm glad you like long chapters as it is my signature habit. I think readers deserve a little relaxation, no?

**Shadow Vampiress: **I'll wait for the Europe patiently, just as you do for every one of my updates. No need to rush. And you read every part of the schedule? You dedicated soul…

**Susumi: **lol Actually, I don't hate Daisuke at all, so… to answer your question: Krad's view of Daisuke is not mine. I'm just, I suppose at least, really good at disguising my emotions to write out a character well. And I'll try to balance school and writing from now on.

**TheFutureMrs.HaruSohma: **Thank you! I'm glad you thought the chapter was so funny. Hopefully this chapter wasn't too much of a disappointment in the humor-factor.

**Enski: **Yeah… I like the band Maximum the Hormone, so I'll make the concert—when it comes up—enjoyable for you.

**KireiRakuen: **I'm trying not to make you explode! XD Ah, well, whatever. At least you think I'm funny, right? Right.

**Vree: **Thank you! I suppose you might _have _to reread the story again in order to remember what happened…O.o

**Doreiku: **Who's telling you the plotline with accordance to Krad's character?! Huh? Tell me your connections! –I kid, but um, hey… You never know. Maybe Krad will have his "playtime" with Take-kun…

**inu-youkai 911: **I love you too! Glad to keep you alive with my writing. x3 And take your time with the fanart if you still want to do it. I'm flattered you even thought of the idea. Thanks.

**YaoiXYuri: **Thanks. My fantasies of Takeshi and Satoshi are simply coming alive in this story, so you can sure enough the possibility of Satoshi falling for Takeshi are…pretty great.

**voldysXangel: **Thanks! Eh, it's okay if my plot was stolen. It was a stupid plot, hence why I deleted it off my stories. Anyways, it's nice to know you thought the chapter was funny!

**Bakura From School: **Aww! That's so sweet. I'm glad to make you excited to read my chapters, but don't worry! I'll always update with _something._ And thanks for the Pocky! x3

**Jiko Fujiani: **lol When it need for a pairing, go for the crack!

**Hyper Chef: **Your review is full of so much epic win that I have absolutely no idea what to say. XD Eh, we talk online, so I practically replied already! Say hi to the muses for me.

**U.P.girl123: **Thanks! Good to hear the story's cute! Um, I'm not sure if I can add a sleepover to the plotline in my head, but I'll see what I can do, okay? I honestly never know how long my stories are ever going to be, so I can't really say. Although, they're usually (when I do get the writing them properly) at least 17-18 chapters. This one, I imagine, will be twenty or so.

**what would you do if you knew? **lol You're welcome! I guess I took the role of being the Provider of SatoshixTakeshi fics, so I'll oblige to fulfilling the job.

**hmm…guess!: **O.o Please don't die of laughter!

**LadyDarthorn: **Thanks! Glad to see you back (yes, I do remember your past reviews as with everyone else…) to ff(dot)net!

**Lost-in-NYC: **I haven't abandoned the story, just postponed in writing it to concentrate on the school-works and such. Never fear… I'll probably still be writing fanfics even if I do become a famous author… XD

AND NOW WHAT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR (right…):

**Deleted Scene:**

_**Satoshi**_

"Where is your father?"

"Um… _DAD?_"

Caught off guard by the sudden shout, I wait along with Takeshi for a response. None.

"He's out."

"I can tell."

He sits up and asks, "So, how do you feel?"

"What do you mean?"

I take a seat on his bed, near his feet.

"Well, today you're supposed to be comfortable being my boyfriend. Are you?"

I shrug, "I don't feel any different than normal."

"So you're fine?"

"I suppose. I never was uncomfortable with being your boyfriend. It's the audience that bothers me."

…That came out wrong.

"So you were never uncomfortable, huh?"

"You know what I meant."

Creeping towards me, he leans into my ear and laughs. That menacing giggle that clearly is the epitome of all things sneaky and teasing is ringing loudly in my ears—that it's only natural I push him off the mattress.

"Oomph!"

"Oh, I'm so terribly sorry." I bend forward, peering over his head. "I meant to bring you into a hug."

"Then let me help you."

…And he tugs my head down to the ground.

His laughter, still ringing in my ears, is what makes me open my eyes, which's vision becomes skewed; staring into a spinning world going upside-down whilst fusing shapes and colors together. Suddenly, two large brown eyes pop up in front of me and some locks of hair tickle my nose.

"You fell," he whispers.

"You liar."

He laughs again, slipping my lenses off my face. Not that it makes a difference since there's really no prescription on the lenses, I simply stare up at him, eyeing his every move. Takeshi never did stop nagging me about my glasses. He found out about my 20:20 vision some years ago and always told me to stop wearing my glasses, threatening that one day they would ruin my vision.

"You'll break these, you know."

"You wouldn't mind that," I respond.

"Yes, but I'd feel guilty."

"So you admit pulling me down?"

"Only if you admit you pushed me off."

"I was trying to hug you."

He arched a brow while dangling the lenses.

"Of course you were. And right after, you were going to cuddle with me on the bed, right?"

"We've done it before."

He chuckles, "You really are comfortable with this, aren't you?"

"Give the glasses back."

"You'll have to get them yourself."

"This isn't going to lead to some ridiculous chase around the house, is it?"

"Pfft. No. You crazy? We just walked home through that massive heat. I mean you'll have to get them yourself because I'm lying on the bed again."

Just as he said, he leaves me on the floor and lies on the bed with my glasses. After some moment's thought, I lie with him and pick the glasses off his chest. We're lying there, side by side, with our hands lazily on our chests and our eyes staring straight up at the ceiling.

"Where did all the gifts you got today go?"

"Threw them out."

"All of them?"

"I kept the chopsticks and a pair of socks."

"What about the lingerie?" He teases.

"I figured you'd steal it from me anyway—"

"Hey!" He jabs.

"—so, saving you from getting arrested for theft, I left it lying somewhere."

He turns on his side, facing me and leaning on his right elbow.

"Why _would_ someone give you lingerie, anyway? Hiding something, Mister Hiwatari?"

"Some girl probably wanted me to get ideas and search for her in hopes that we sleep together. That sort of thing."

"…Have you ever done it?"

Silence.

"That is none of your business."

"I won't tell," he whispers. "I promise."

"I can't trust you with that kind of information."

He gasps.

"_Who?_ Who did _you_ screw?"

"I don't remember saying yes to the que—"

"Is it someone I know? Or like, some random chick off the streets?" He gasps again, "Was it a _whore?_"

"Wha—_No!_"

Curiously, he asks, "Was it a guy?"

Angrily, I sit up about to leave when he tugs at my arm, "No! I'm—I'm sorry."

"You're not—"

"Yes, I am. I just wanted to know."

My eyes narrow.

"Well, you know that I'm a virgin, so I just… wanted to know if you were… too."

I don't move my vision away from the ground.

"No. I'm not."

"Okay."

"And it's no one you know."

"All right."

We sit there for a moment.

"It was willing."

He sighs, relieved.

"Okay."

Monday, 4:12 PM

"You poor soul."

"It was scary!" He straddles me, "I mean, one moment she's all '_I love your article so much'_ and next thing, she just bares her fangs at me and tells me how much 'trouble' I'm going to be in if I even touch you."

I look at where he's sitting.

"It seems like you don't care."

Resting his arms on my chest, he just relaxes on top of me. He nods his no and sets his chin on his hands. I don't think Takeshi puts much consideration on how he lies on top of me, neglecting my comfort altogether. My pelvis area is being crushed as we breathe here and not a single ounce of this pain is bothering the little devil, which is what he is, forcing me to verbally sign a contract with my life on it. No… no. He's comfortable. I'm not.

"Move a little," I order.

"I'm comfy here."

"Yes, well, I'm not."

"Too bad."

Not much of a choice with someone just brutally _lying_ on me. I'm the newest version of a mattress—just came out of the factory a few days ago, and lucky Takeshi nabbed me before anyone else.

Okay. The pain is seriously getting to me.

Without giving it much thought, I simply grip his hips and nudged him. It was to no avail, though, because he just simply moved with my skin only to go right back to his original position. Drastic measures were needed to be taken. So, while Takeshi just rests unsuspectingly on my chest with his eyes closed, my hands nervously hover over his behind. It's the only way. The immediate reaction of a jump would force air between us and a few seconds, enough time for me to push him up a little and free my pelvis of the horrid weight. It's… the only way.

The only way to describe this anticipation is with the analogy of skydiving. It's terribly frightening and unfortunately the only route one has, and once the diver gets up the nerve to jump off, they must act quickly in order to survive. Takeshi is deadly. It is this thought process that enabled my hands to just grip—almost squeeze—Takeshi's plump bottom (not that I noticed), making him squeak and jump. Reacting quickly, I pushed him up further, relieving my pelvis. Oh wonderful—

"Oomph!"

His lips brush against mine, sliding down my left cheek and onto the crook of my neck. My hands freeze where they were, but his head slowly lifts itself up, making eye contact in the end. With his hands now in lazy fists near my Adam's Apple, he shifts eyes around the area, landing them back to me.

"Um," He bites his lip. "Are you ever going to let go of my ass?"

"I'm trying."

He doesn't move them off. He doesn't even laugh. He just lies there, staring at me.

"They're still there," he whispers.

I don't respond. Why are my hands not moving?

_/I happen to like them there./_

_Is this you who is holding onto him?_

_/Only partially, but not really. You seem to be enjoying the perkiness in his bottom./_

I guess I wasn't keeping track of what Takeshi was doing because I just noticed just how close our faces were now, except instead of me leaning down to him, it was the opposite. Our noses were mere millimeters away from each other and his lips ghosted above mine, temptingly. They perked up a little into a tiny smile, but with his teeth gently biting on his lower lip.

"Do you like holding me there?" He playfully whispered.

"Are you enjoying it?"

"I asked you first."

"My hands are rebelling against my brain."

"Tragedy." He swiftly took my left hand and moved it up to his waist.

_/Let's have a tighter grip, shall we?/_

_No—!_

With surprised eyes at the sudden clutch I had on him, he arched his back up away from me. Clearly he wasn't sure about what the sudden molestation was for because, let's face it, I was in fact groping the poor guy. He may have been a pain, but even he didn't deserve my French Rebellion of hands.

_/Play with your little pet, Satoshi-sama./_

I squeeze.

_/He clearly wants to play with you./_

He hunches his shoulders while leaning into me once more.

_/And after all… A good master never ignores his pet./_

Our lips brush.

_/Now be a good master./_

We kiss.

And suddenly there's nothing stopping us.

I don't quite care anymore what the hell my hands are doing, but they aren't just peacefully lying on top of Takeshi's behind anymore. They're roaming to wherever they hell they want to roam. Not that Takeshi's hands are any less mischievous, cupping my face, resting on my shoulders, tucking themselves inside my shirt.

Panting, I hold his chin in place, biting on his full lips, which suck on mine. The heat from our breaths is a bit of a benefactor to the oddly passionate moment, building up the tension. It's getting erotic—kissing the person whom has entrapped me in a situation I never wanted to be in, molesting him as if I own him, bruising his lips and enjoying it.

_/Aren't you having fun?/_

_**Detective Saehara**_

I had to stay a little longer in work today to finish up some important file papers for the recent homicidal case along with certain inquiries and appointments. It was a bit of a hectic Monday today, but isn't it always?

Naturally, I'm just happy to be home finally and ready to have whatever Takeshi batched up for me today. Unlocking the door and shutting it behind me, I step inside the kitchen, setting my suitcase on the island next to the chopping boards. When I open the refrigerator, I'm pleased to find sushi, crab with avocado, cream cheese, and celery. Takeshi spoils me.

"Sa… Satoshi…"

Blink.

As any father would, I didn't make a single sound at that… uh… moan. Instead, I casually panicked inside my brain while saving the sushi from falling onto the floor—I am _damn _hungry—by putting it on top of my suitcase. And I inhaled and exhaled as I normally would and—_Oh who am I kidding? _

Please still be a virgin.

Please still be a virgin.

Please still—wait. What if he had sex with a girl already?

Please still be a gay virgin.

Please still—No! Stop this. You are _crazy_. Your son is _not_ gay. He said so. This is only temporary. Nothing serious… _but if that son of a bitch, Satoshi Hiwatari, gets a damn hand on my son, I swear to fucking God, I will—_

Get a hold of yourself, Chief… It's fine. You're fine. He's fine. Hiwatari can die, but he's fine too. Everything is fine.

I open Takeshi's bedroom door, revealing a pair of boys…

"WHAT THE _HELL_ ARE YOU TWO DOING?"

Takeshi is on top of him. Oh my God. Oh my _GOD._

"DAD!"

Takeshi just fell on the floor—and were those hands on his ass? Oh… my God.

"Chief, this can all be explained."

Hiwatari looks nervous. Why is he nervous? He's not allowed to be nervous.

"Stop being nervous!" I yell.

Well, look on the bright side… He's not naked. Or previously penetrated. No. He's just deprived of his innocence because he was groped by some sick, twisted kid who's taking advantage of my son's passion for journalism. That goddamn son of bitch, I swear… I'm going… to…

"KILL YOU!"

_**Takeshi**_

Monday, 4:38 PM

I am currently on my father's back trying to hold him back by suffocating him just so that Satoshi can be alive tomorrow. Satoshi _can't _die. My article depends on him.

"Let _go_ of me, Takeshi!"

"No!" I yell. "You can't kill him!"

"LET _GO _OF ME, TAKESHI!"

"Chief," Satoshi gulps while holding his backpack in front of him, "I understand that you are very angry, but—"

"Stop being diplomatic, you lying piece of shi—"

"DAD!"

Monday, 4:45 PM

I am currently trying to press the bathroom door closed on my dad so that he won't come in and kill Satoshi by drowning him or something.

"—swear it was according to schedule, Chief!"

"Did Takeshi ever tell you that your death is also according to schedule too?"

"No!" Straining to speak, I continue putting all my muscle. "He's right! Well, we're a bit early actually, but we're according to schedule. This is part of the whole ordeal! Boyfriends kiss, Dad!"

"I don't approve of this!"

Satoshi gave up on being diplomatic and now is just trying to survive.

_Crack._

Oh no. The door is breaking.

Sigh…

I hate resulting to desperate measures.

"But… But Daaaaaaaaaaadddddyyyyyyyyy!"

Satoshi just freezes.

"No! Don't you _Daddy_ me, Takeshi. I do _NOT_ approve of you kiss—"

Pouting, I place on the "small, innocent" voice and whine, "Daaaddy… Don't you want me to be a great reporter?"

"Yes, of course I do, but—"

"And don't you want me to be determined?"

"Now, Takeshi, you know that's not what I—"

I threw in a fake sniff.

"And—And, don't you want me to get as much practice as I need?"

"Well, yes, but—"

I open the door, letting my father stumble upon big brown eyes.

"Then why aren't you approving of my investigative reporting of dating the most popular boy in school? Don't you want me to be successful? This is my _grade,_ Daddy. This… is my _LIFE!_ And… And… _YOU DON'T CARE!_"

Monday, 5:02 PM

I am currently bawling out every tear I have in this body on the couch, carefully peeking out of my hands to see if my father is falling for it. He is, rubbing my back to "calm me down." Satoshi is on the other side of me, debating if it's safe to be in the house anymore.

"There, there, Take-kun…" My father coos, "Everything is all right. I'm not going to kill Hiwatari, all right?"

"You…" I sniff. "You promise?"

"I promise."

"And… and you're not gon-gonna… beat him, ri-right?"

He grits his teeth, "No. No… Daddy isn't going to beat him either."

_**Satoshi**_

This is so unbelievably disturbing.

**End of deleted scene.**

Review please.

Cheers -Steph


	5. Stage 2: Establish Who Protects Who

**Schizo: **HEY. I'm ALIVE. And no, this story wasn't on hiatus--oh quite the contrary. You see, my senior year of high school has to be, hands down, one of the most stressful years of my life and because of that, I will forever despise it. Yay!

However, I do feel guilty for constantly pushing this off. Honestly, I almost forgot that I have writer responsibilities, which some friends tell me I don't _really _have because there's a trend of writers on these type of sites disappearing from the face of the Internet Planet forever, but I am not one of those people. You know why? Because for whatever freaking reason why, I freaking love writing fanfiction for DNAngel. On some days, it frightens me how much I just love writing DNAngel fanfiction. I just have random dreams of TakeshixSatoshi and wake up going, "Awww! That was so hot!"

But yeah, I was sitting in my bed on day, probably around three:fifteen in the morning when I realized, "HOLY CRAP, SCHIZO. YOU'RE ABOUT TO GO COLLEGE AND YOU HAVEN'T FINISHED YOUR FANFICS YET? THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, WOMAN?"

I don't know what is wrong with me, Brain. Well, okay, so I kind of do, but we're not going to touch that painful territory that is my Psyche.

I'm called Schizo, for crying out loud. You didn't expect psychological problems?

No? Oh. Well. Okay. Ignore this then.

And so I went back to my file and I was about to whip up a chapter like no one's business when I realized, "Oh crap. What if I mentioned something and I totally forgot?" So I read and read, 78 pages of this story, except the parts that I found boring (which yes, I acknowledge that some of my writing is boring, AND I DON'T CARE IF YOU DISAGREE, I STILL THINK SO. Ha.) And then I wrote, only eating one sandwich, a soup with tentacles (which was oh-so-delicious), and nuts. Water all throughout because someone in this household (I'm staring right at you, Dad) didn't buy milk, which is unacceptable when I'm writing.

No, seriously. That shit pisses me off.

Anyways, I know this is a T-story, but it's going to turn into an M? Why? Because I am a perverted girl who just thinks sex is cute for some sick reason (but cute reason too!), and I just think sex spices up the plot. Now, this isn't going to be all porn all of sudden. No. I am a classy woman, you know. I will ween you on. For now, it will be T, but just expect it. Anticipate it. Theorize about it. Want it. Love it.

Read it.

For now, enjoy some filler crap I needed to write to get from Point A to Point B. A certain thing will have to Satoshi and I will elaborate on it, so don't think that's it (you'll understand my nonsensical words in a few minutes, don't worry.) I have some very, very delicious ideas up ahead, and I'm just going to write. And I'm serious. I know in my past I say empty lies (I AM SO SORRY), but I'm serious. I want to write as much of all my fics, particularly this one because it is my favorite, before I head off to college. I will try to write in college, but it might not be so easy.

By the way, I'm going to Emerson College in MA. I'm just a small-town girl (JUST A SMALL-TOWN GIRL... LIVING IN A LONELY WORLD...) about to make her author-future come to life, so yeah. I just boasted and I don't care. Writers boast because we work too much.

Just read.

I don't own DNAngel. Crap. This makes things complicated.

OH.

AND YOU DECIDE TO REVIEW, I just have a favor to ask. You don't have to if you don't want to, but I really like those literal Read and Review reviews, where you read the chapter and jot down your mental comments on particular scenes of the chapter. You don't even have to clarify, I'll get it. I just love those, mainly because it gives me a better idea of how my writing is being achieved. You can do it for the humor or actually try to critique me. I don't care. I just really like those... just saying. So, please? :D

Okay. Continue with what you were doing.

**linebreakerihaventdoneoneofthesethingsinsolongandistillhavetheabilitytototallykickasswiththisthingstheressomeprettyhardcoretechnolikebadasshardcorenothappygoingoninmyheadahwell**

_**Takeshi**_

Wednesday, 7:14 AM

I stare at my kitchen, smirking. Last night, Dad decided to make a big deal out of nothing, kicking Satoshi out of my house. He isn't supposed to comment on my work—he never really _cares_ about my work, but suddenly I engage myself in an investigative role involving his boss and all Hell breaks loose. Well, fine.

I grab a small Post-It note along with a pen, and I jot down a tiny message to my father. Nothing too serious; nothing too serious at all.

_**Detective Saehara**_

Wednesday, 9:03 AM

Takeshi's Note:

_Dad,_

_I had to rush to school. Didn't make breakfast. Just eat cereal._

_Takeshi_

There _is_ no cereal.

Damn him. He knew this.

_**Takeshi**_

Wednesday, 10:47 AM

Today is Wednesday, Mid-Issue Report Day, where we send out a small newspaper with brief weekly updates, promos for upcoming columns/articles, and media reviews. Naturally, the first fifteen minutes of Journalism on Wednesdays is to quiet down and gather round in the Meeting Room, which is just a small room with a large table and orange chairs. It's to make it seem as if we were an actual newspaper with a conference room.

That is, if our newspaper only had a budget of Crap.

"Oh my god," Nara, our fashion/entertainment columnist, whines while chipping some lime green nail polish off the skin of her fingers, a manicure-job she attempted to do while the class got settled in. She turns to me, blows her nails, and says, "So, like, how's Satoshi?"

My eyes widen, triggering a blush on my cheeks. I whisper, as to keep the conversation solely between us, "Um, he's fine, I guess."

"No, like, have you two gotten to know each other better? I mean, that's the point, right?"

"Uh, well," I shrug. "I've known him for awhile. He works with my dad."

"Really? Wow, so you two probably know weird stuff about each other, right? Oh my gosh, you know what I've always wanted to know about him?"

"Hmm?"

"He's like some sort of genius, right? But like, I don't really see him in any clubs, like for science and stuff. What does he do? Do you know?"

I blink. His hobbies. I never really thought about telling people his hobbies, which seems so obvious to mention, considering it's a basic conversation starter. In truth, I know very little about what Satoshi enjoys doing in his spare time, besides…

"He reads a lot," I respond. "And I think he paints every once in awhile. He usually has a canvas lying around in his house."

Nara gasps, tucking a strand of newly dyed Persian Red (she told me) hair behind her right ear, "You've been to his _house?_"

She leans toward me, creating a form of a huddle between us so that she can gossip more comfortably. Nara loves the spice, but she respects privacy as well, as contradicting as that sounds. So, taming her voice down—but not her excitement—she whispers giddily, "What's his house like?"

"Empty."

She blinks.

"Empty? What?"

"He doesn't have much. He barely has food or furniture, let alone decoration."

"Is he poor or something?"

"No," I nod. "Actually, he has more than enough money to buy his necessities, but he just never goes out. He's always working on his computer."

"What does he work on?"

"Just stuff," I vaguely reply, unsure of whether I should mention his workmanship. "It's not that big of a deal. He just feels he doesn't need all the distraction in his life, but he definitely needs food. So… I think I'll take him grocery shopping on Sunday."

"That's cute," she grins as she talks. "It's, like, so bizarre he's letting you do this."

"Making him the center of my article?"

"Letting you _date_ him. I mean, he never lets anyone _talk_ to him, much less _date_ him. You must be something different."

I chuckle, "Hey, don't give me credit. I'm bribing the poor guy. Believe me, it wasn't a simple 'sure, you can report my life.' It was a long afternoon of me begging, manipulating, and recording our conversations."

"_Ahem,_" Hadae clears her throat, tapping on the back of her neon pink clipboard. She scans the room, taking mental attendance of the class, and waits for everyone to stop speaking. By this point, Nara and I face towards her, pausing our conversation.

Kanagawa-sensei generally stays out of our conference meetings to ensure a definite student-organized vibe into our newspaper, which is primarily the reason why everyone in our class is so passionate about our roles. So, while Sensei sits at his desk, Hadae (our senior editor) is in charge of orderly tasks.

"Alright," she confirms. "Well, as you all know, today is Mid-Issue Report Day. All articles are due by 11:15, fifteen minutes before the bell. According to schedule, Gifu will get the lay-out ready—"

Gifu smiles, commenting, "Already working on it. Remember, guys, you _can_ turn your stuff in early. Makes my life easier."

"…Right." Hadae continues, "Anyways, Gifu will have the lay-out ready for Fourth Period Printmaking, who will then print and distribute the newspapers during lunch. Are there any issues? Everyone can turn in their articles?"

I lean in and ask, "Actually, I was wondering if I could limit my filler articles to four instead of six this week?"

"That's perfect, actually. We just got a huge ad and we need room on a page, so yeah. That'll work."

"Thanks."

Hadae scans the room once more and smiles.

"Okay! So, that's official. As for other news…" Hadae flips the page on her clipboard, "Oh. Right. Well, as you all should remember from yesterday, Miyasaki requested a meeting today after school, so please report back here around three."

A few groans are heard.

"Oh come on, Hadae," Gunma, our weather guy, sighs, "Can't we just push it to tomorrow on our regular Round-Up meetings?"

"Sorry. Apparently Miyasaki is involving the TV Production kids and their meetings are held on Wednesdays. They've already agreed to come to our room instead of holding the presentation in theirs."

Shimane, our sports writer, glares at Miyasaki, who chose a seat adjacent to Hadae (for security, I suppose.) The thing about the TV Production kids in our school is that they really don't take their duties seriously—and most of the film they "produce" is crap. For precisely that reason, our principal always attempts to unite them with us to form a News segment. Considering nobody in journalism has any respect for TV Production kids, except for maybe Miyasaki, it's never happened. It probably never will.

"Why can't you just tell us right now," Shimane asks. "We're all right here. If those camera whores already know your plan, then all you have to do is tell us, right?"

Miyasaki then says, "The presentation is too long, and since you all are reluctant at the _thought_ of working with them, then clearly our class time isn't long enough to convince you all."

"You're such a traitor, you know that?" Shimane scowls, "They're all freaking idiots with a camera. It's like grading YouTube."

"For your information, my idea just so happens to involve Saehara."

It was at this moment that everyone turned their heads at me while I dropped my pencil, uttering, "Huh?"

"Yes. My ingenious plan involves _you._"

"What? Miyasaki," I stand up from my seat. "You _know_ I can't get involved with anything. I'm too busy with Satoshi as it is."

"Poor baby," he mocks. "Would your boyfriend miss you? Well, why don't you tell him he doesn't have to worry, alright?"

Hadae taps her clipboard, "Settle down, guys. Miyasaki, did you even _ask _Saehara if you could include him with your idea."

"_No!_" I answer, "He _didn't,_ and what," I turn my attention back to Miyasaki, "all of a sudden I just have to go along with your idea?"

"You don't even know what it is," he answers. "You might like it."

"I don't _care _what it is! The next ten weeks of my life is scheduled and I just don't have any room for anything else."  
Nara blows her nails once more before leaning in and asking Miyasaki, "What _is_ your idea? I mean, you could just tell us the basic concept, y'know. And, like, explain later."

"Fine." Miyasaki sighs, does a mock attempt at being bothered by this persisting, and gives in, "It's a type of reality television show. I just thought it might help Takeshi's article if he and his _beloved boyfriend_ be featured on film. Readers don't have to just imagine, they can see for themselves."

I just start laughing.

"Actually," Hadae muses. "That doesn't sound so bad."

Wait. What?

Suddenly, I realize that no one in the room finds this as ridiculous as I do. In fact, people are pondering the idea, the concept of Satoshi and I whoring ourselves on film for the pleasure of our—apparently—perverted student body. It kind of creeps me out.

"You guys aren't serious, are you?" I ask. "Satoshi isn't going to go for this. It was hard enough to get him to agree to the article. A reality TV show? Uh, no. Ain't gonna happen."

"If you can convince him to do an article," Miyasaki says, "then you can convince him to do a show. You have some magic about you with him, I guess."

"No. I _don't_. We're not romantically dating; we're doing it for business."

"And what business is his?"

I paused before answering, "Well, uh… I don't know yet, but—but that's because my part of the deal is to give him whatever he wants any time he wants."

Whoa. That sounds—

"That is so kinky," Nara comments. "Holy crap. _Hot._"

…Yeah.

Gunma, who had mentally left the conversation and started doodling rain clouds striking tiny televisions, realizes that I'm being outnumbered here. And maybe it was out of pity, maybe he decided to defend me because he just doesn't want to get involved with the TV-P kids because he'd ultimately get stuck with the paperwork instead of Shiga because Shiga has way too many duties and Gunma is only in charge of the weather, so he's obviously the victim—I don't know. It really doesn't matter why, but he looked up from his notebook of doodles and decided to ask questions.

"Yeah, but," he modestly interrupts. "How would it work?"

"Huh?" Miyasaki turns to Gunma, almost forgetting he was the first person to complain about the entire issue.

"Would they follow Saehara and Hiwatari around everywhere?—the TV-P kids? 'Cause I don't think teachers would go for that if their students are skipping their classes all the time. And would it only be in school?" A pause. "That's boring. You'd have to have some kids follow them after school—and that's something _we'd_ do, not some lazyass TV-P kids."

I smile at Gunma, who worded 'I got your back' in my direction, comforting me that this wasn't another Miyasaki-triggered Class vs. Takeshi scenario. I actually have an ally in this project. But again, it really doesn't matter why he's on my side, as long as we win this battle. I just have no way of convincing Satoshi to go along with this, and I don't want this being a situation where he doesn't have a choice to participate or not. Plus, the idea of kissing on camera makes me shy. Seriously, I don't need people gathering evidence that I'm gay—and God forbid yaoi girls watch the show.

No.

Not the yaoi girls.

"Listen," Miyasaki reassures, "it will all be explained at three o'clock. I got this. The only thing that needs to be done is some paperwork and everything will be fine."

"No. It won't."

The class eyes me. I explain, "Satoshi told me he wanted to join today's meeting. The reason why I'm telling you it won't work is because he will see all the bullshit you're gonna try to pull. It won't make a difference if I try to convince him if he's there at the meeting."

"He's… coming?"

Miyasaki's eyes widen, wincing slightly. He gulps, shifting in his seat before compromising with me, "Well, then tell him not to come."

"No, see, he didn't ask. He's just coming."

I don't really know why, to be honest, but there wasn't much I could do about it last night. Actually, I almost forgot to bring his movie in today, but I saw it on my way out luckily. And I would have given it to Satoshi this morning, but since my afternoons are usually occupied by him nowadays, I have to use my extra time to jot down some writing ideas, homework, and do my cleaning duties in the morning.

Yeah. I'm responsible now.

It's total bullshit.

So, this morning while writing article notes in my notepad to mention that while "Satoshi isn't a very big on cuddling, he's nice to lay down with," I was also cleaning up some of the culinary tables for Shokaido-sensei. She gave me a French pastry she baked to enjoy for breakfast when I told her why I hadn't cooked my own this morning, Satoshi Gossip and all.

"_So, you two act in love in front of your father, eh?" Shokaido-sensei kidded, eating a small piece of her pastry._

"_Eh?! No," I said, defensively. "He's paranoid that we'll actually start dating."_

"_I wouldn't see why not. You always cook extra food for him." _

"_Because he never eats! I can't have him die from starvation at the prime of my article."_

"_Before the article," she meant._

"_Oh. Well. I don't know; it bothered me, I guess. Sometimes he looks a little sick. He doesn't take very good care of himself."_

_I blushed, confessing slightly to her that, "I feel kind of like his mom sometimes. Now that I go over his house more often, I buy him food, cook, clean a little, and well… I don't know. It's like he doesn't care if he gets unhealthy."_

"_You care about him." Shokaido-sensei smiled affectionately, gesticulating as she spoke. She said, "I know you think nothing will happen, but perhaps you should question your carefree approach on sexuality, Saehara-san. Lest you be marked a deviant in school. You can't be prancing with boys, saying you don't care what you do."_

_I shrugged._

"_I never thought about it."_

"_Is it because you were too preoccupied with your career? You are so young, Saehara-san. You don't begin Life until four years. You should have _fun._ Explore yourself."_

I don't even know why I remember that conversation so vividly. I think it's because Shokaido-sensei made my article sound so serious for once, and not like the latest phenomenon that people have been gossiping about. It had occurred to me: I had single-handedly transformed myself into a love icon. And I flaunt it on paper.

Oh god. I must look like a whore.

"—you're a traitor and a pimp!" Shimane shouts, taking me out of my tangent. "For crying out loud, a reality TV show? Really? We're a _newspaper_—or did you forget that while you sold your soul to those brats?"

"I think you're taking this too personally," Miyasaki retorts. "It doesn't even involve you."

"It involves one of my friends. You're turning his article into a gimmick, man. Do you even know why he wrote it in the first place?"

Suddenly, knocking is heard. As the class looks over to the large glass window separating our conference room from the classroom, we realize that it's Kanagawa-sensei, who took the initiative to point at his wristwatch. Hadae then takes out her pocket watch, an item she pawned at a yard sale some three weeks ago, from her skirt and gasps, "Oh crap! It's been thirty minutes!"

We're fifteen minutes behind schedule thanks to this nonsense. Great.

"Okay. Whatever, guys." Hadae cuts everyone off, shattering the drama. "We gotta get back to work, so start writing your articles. We're fifteen minutes short than normal, but deadlines are deadlines. So, yeah. Gifu. Remember, 11:15 sharp. No excuses."

As deadlines do have a tendency to strike fear in our hearts, all opinions were replaced with, "Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap."

Such is journalism.

_**Satoshi**_

Wednesday, 12:27 PM

I pick up a copy of the school newspaper, freshly delivered five minutes ago from the Print-Making students. I tuck it between my books as I anticipate the lunch bell to ring at half-past.

"I thought you only read the Monday paper," Harada-san comments, older.

Slightly taken aback from this comment, I reply, "Is it wrong to read the mid-paper?"

"No," she smirks. "Reading it for Saehara's sake?"

She picks up a copy of the Mid-Issue paper and reads the front-page headline, "BAKE SALE IS TO BE PRETTY SWEET. Oh yeah. You can always leave it to the newspaper to create the best puns."

They do write horrible puns. It's frightening.

"I didn't know there's going to be a bake sale this Friday, though. That's cool." She reads further and comments, "Apparently the Dance Team is raising up money, so they're selling the goods. They're pretty good; wonder why they need to raise money. I thought they already had enough."

"It's probably for new uniforms," I reason.

"No… Oh, here. Oh wow. They're just one competition away from going to the finals in Tokyo, so they're saving up just in case."

Riku's small-talk bothers me. I'm just waiting for the bell to ring.

"Have you ever gone to one of their competitions, Hiwatari?"

"No, and—and I don't expect to. What…" I sigh. "Why exactly are you mentioning this topic?"

"Just to talk," she answers.

"Why?"

"Well," she chuckles. "You see, considering I'm Saehara's friend and you're Saehara's _boy_friend, I would like to get to know you."

"You can gladly get that by reading his article."

"No, I—"

The bell rang.

"I would continue this conversation," I say, "but I have a meal to attend to."

_**Daisuke**_

It took a minute, but I found Satoshi sitting at a bench nearby a tree for the shade. As I sit myself across from him, I notice the folded pages of the mid-issue report just next to his lunch, which actually has some substance. He just vaguely addresses me with a small upwards glance and reverts back to the newspaper while taking a bit of his dumpling.

"Hello, Hiwatari."

"Hello," he greets.

I look across and notice he's reading the filler articles (oh yes, I am oh-so-knowledgeable with the journalism terms) Takeshi wrote. That's cute, I guess.

"_Ack,_" Takeshi greets up.

"What's wrong, Saehara?"

"What else is wrong with my mundane affairs?" Takeshi moans and unwraps his lunch bag. "Miyasaki, the _bane of my existence_, yet again tops his latest attempt at destroying my life."

"What did he do?" Satoshi asks, putting a finger on a paragraph to keep his reading place.

"Well, you're going to find out anyway in today's meeting, but…" Takeshi winces before continuing, anticipating a negative reaction, "He's setting up a reality TV show for us."

"_Excuse me?_"

"Yeah, I know. It's nuts. And what sucks more is that the only people who agree with me that it sucks is Gunma and Shimane, but the whole class digs the idea. You have to change their mind."

Takeshi pouts.

"I will," Satoshi replies. "I'm not a showcase for these idiots. I agreed to an informative article, not a perverse documentation of my every move."

"Thanks."

Takeshi leans in to Satoshi to, what looks like, kiss him on the cheek, but he sharply turns and notices the paper. Excited, he says, "Hey! You're reading the mid-issue? Did you read my fillers yet?"

"I'm reading them now."

"Which one?"

"The one involving the new Arctic Animals exhibit at the zoo," Satoshi answers, bringing the newspaper in front of him to make it easier for Takeshi to see. "I'm slightly confused, though. Are the actual animals there or is it just a photo exhibit?"

"Oh, um, the actual animals, but they're only there for six months. See," Takeshi points to the last paragraph of the article, "I mention that right here."

He shrugs, laughing slightly, and continues, "I, uh, didn't have a lot of time to write them today. The conference meeting got pretty intense, but oh well. Anyways, uh…" Takeshi pulled out a bento, teriyaki chicken being the main piece, I think. "I have a small snippet for my column."

"You didn't mention another fact about me, did you?"

Takeshi laughs, "No. I just told them what we're going to do this week, that's all. I'm not so evil, you know."

It's been a good ten minutes and they haven't fought yet.

_/They're getting along. Or, at least, tolerating each other./_

_It's really bizarre._

_/They're falling in looooove./_

I chuckle, accidentally bringing attention to myself. Takeshi averts a brow, murmuring a, "Hmm?"

"It's nothing," I shy off.

"Anyway," Takeshi switches the topic, "I notice that you, Mr. Hiwatari, have an actual _lunch_ today!"

"Indeed."

"My, my," Takeshi purrs. "You're defending me in newspaper, reading my articles, and actually feeding yourself. Why Mr. Hiwatari, whatever did I do to deserve such a nice treatment today, hmm?"

"I just had food today."

"And the paper?"

"I just felt like reading it?"

Takeshi grins, "And the Knight-in-Shining-Armor act?"

"I think it's safe to say that Miyasaki's idea is just horrible."

"So you're _just_ doing things, huh?"

Satoshi doesn't answer, choosing to go back to reading the newspaper. This triggers a new move by Takeshi, who bent the top edge of the paper to glimpse at Satoshi, who glared. It's basically this cat-and-mouse game, as I watch Takeshi make weird faces at Satoshi to distract him from the newspaper—or poke him in the cheek, which simply triggers a grunt. Yet, Satoshi has his defense mechanisms, mainly jerking away from Takeshi's probing fingers and holding the newspaper higher and higher, despite Takeshi having the ability to stand up and lean over the newspaper anyway.

"You're trying to ignore me and you're faaaaaailing," Takeshi teases.

"One would think you'd _want_ me to read your writing."

Takeshi perks up his lips, vaguely resembling those cartoon kitty mouths, and says, "Am I annoying you?"

A small pause eats the moment before Satoshi mutters a quaint, "You've done worse."

That's code for: No.

Hence the reason why Takeshi begins cracking up, leaning into the crook of Satoshi's neck and clearly invading his Personal Bubble, but he doesn't really care. Honestly, I amazed that he wasn't pushed off, especially when he rests his chin on Satoshi's shoulder. Just a small grunt and a, "Must you do that?"

"Yes." Takeshi giggles, enjoying the play. "I'm testing new waters here, alright?"

"And those would be?"

His lips ghost Satoshi's neck up to his ear, and he whispers, "I need to see how close I can get."

_/Is this some flirting action, I see?/_

_I… think so._

_/I demand a make-out. If they don't kiss, I'll be pissed. I'm losing sleep over this shit./_

_Let them go at their own pace. Every couple deserves that respect._

_/Oh come on. Stop being all saintly./_

_Just saying._

"You know already," Satoshi replies.

"Oh really?" Slipping his hands onto Satoshi's chest and back, Takeshi murmurs, "Are you sure?"

"Enough to not want to be molested in public."

A gradual slip to hugging his waist, and Takeshi "innocently" says, "I'm not. I'm hugging you."

Satoshi faces Takeshi, cocking his right brow as Takeshi presses his forehead against Satoshi. Their noses just barely touch, but neither of them attempt to fight what's going on. And so, Takeshi teases, "I can get real close, apparently."

"You're pushing it."

"Oh yeah, tota—"

"Um… Sae… hara?"

Takeshi looks up to see a classmate, immediately pulling away from Satoshi.

"Gunma!" Takeshi glances at Gunma, glances at Satoshi, glances back at Gunma, and awkwardly greets, "Uh… Hi."

"Yeah… S-so, uh-um," Gunma stutters. "I was just, uh… I just came to, uh… tell you that—I'm sorry, am I interrupting something? 'Cause like, you were, uh, _really_ close to his face, and uh… um."

"No!" Takeshi is blushing so hard, it's hysterical.

_/Alright. I'll substitute the passion for complete humiliation. Got it./_

"It's totally not what you think," Takeshi lies, laughing nervously. "Some readers, uh, just want to know… how close I can get to Satoshi. You know, without kissing."

"Right." Gunma nods, taking in the awkwardness of this all. "Well." He clears his throat. "I just came to tell you that Shimane pretty much nixed the whole reality TV show idea with the simple, legal fact that the school can't film you if you don't sign a release form."

"Oh," Takeshi perks up. "Yeah? Okay. So, what now?"

"Just don't sign the form. The same for Hiwatari, and especially Hiwatari because he's not even in one of the classes involved. Anyway, uh, the meeting got canceled and Miyasaki is pretty ticked. It doesn't really matter, but Shimane just wanted to tell you that you shouldn't let Miyasaki push you around so much."

"I don't let him push me around!"

Gunma crosses his arms.

"He bullies you _a lot_ in journalism, Saehara. It's like he has a huge vendetta against you ever since you started this article—must be pretty jealous of your stats."

"Or jealous in general," Satoshi comments.

"Huh?" Takeshi turns to Satoshi. "What's this?"

"I planned to attend the meeting today because I have this suspicion that the reasoning behind Miyasaki's action is a slight crush on you."

"Yeah _right._ Miyasaki isn't gay." Turning to Gunma for reassurance, he asks, "Right?"

"Hell if I know."

"He hates me, though."

"A common reaction," Satoshi clarifies. "Be careful around him. No need to be paranoid; it's only a suspicion."

"Wait," Takeshi ponders the moment and grins. "So, you were going to the meeting to _protect_ me from _Miyasaki?_"

Satoshi shrugs, allowing a small nudge from Takeshi, who says, "That's actually kind of sweet of you. No one really does that type of thing for me."

Takeshi kissed Satoshi on the cheek, a small token of gratitude.

"Do," Gunma refers to me, "you normally watch them do this stuff?"

"All the time," I answer. "You get used to being the audience after awhile."

"Yeah, but they're like… making out in front of you."

"I kissed his _cheek! _Holy crap!" Takeshi shouts. "A guy can't give a thank-you?"

The conversation goes other places, as Gunma changes the topic to avoid yet another awkward moment and discusses a comic book he's been reading these past few days, something about zombie ninjas in space, which seems to be a mishmash of three cult worlds all into one. Takeshi, known to love his fair share of cult media, promptly engages in the conversation, where questions arise, such as, "I don't get it. Wouldn't the ninjas _forget_ how to be ninjas if they're zombies?"

"It's total instincts, man," Gunma replies. "Once a ninja, always a ninja. You can't forget that shit."

"But they don't have brains."

"Oh, that's solved. They're also robots."

"Okay, now the writer is just messing with us. Seriously? They're zombie ninjas _and_ robots?"

"All while kicking ass in outer space. It's pretty awesome."

In all of this, Satoshi watches the summary of the comic book progress, getting a full glimpse of one pastime Takeshi indulges in. He listens, not giving any opinion, but at the same time, he doesn't seem to be annoyed by the boyish hobby. Neither does he look amused.

_/Wonder what's going through Creepy Boy's head./_

_**Satoshi**_

_/Zombies are dead?/_

_Yes._

_/Then why do they act alive?/_

_I have no idea, but they are always in search of brains._

_/Why?/_

_For energy—I don't know. They eat them._

_/The concept baffles me. How is it that ninjas got turned into zombies?/_

_They died and rose from the dead._

_/That makes no sense whatsoever./_

_It's not supposed to. You're not supposed to ask questions in these things as logic doesn't play a huge role. You read and enjoy._

To be honest, I'm slightly distracted. Last night's dream was peculiar for me, and I'm not sure what to make of it. I thought about what I ate the night before, but considering the only food I really consumed was popcorn at Takeshi's house and strawberry soda, there wasn't enough of an excuse to blame my dream on the food.

_I was sitting in a bench, waiting for Takeshi to meet me for another scheduled date in the park. He told me to arrive around three, and it was now three-thirty. It didn't bother me that he was late, but I did find it odd, especially because—despite what it may seem—Takeshi is very serious about his punctuality, unless it concerns after school cleaning duty, of course. _

_I waited, unbuttoning the collar of my shirt since it was getting hot. _

"_Sorry I'm late," he said, coming up behind me. _

"_What happened?"_

"_I got in a fight with my dad." I didn't ask further, but he explained anyway. "I told him I like you."_

"_Excuse me?"_

"_I like you," he repeated in a whisper, bashful of my response. "And not like a friend."_

"_You said this wasn't serious." I paused. "Wait—we've only been on one date."_

_It was at this point that I was getting suspicious of what was happening._

_He sat on his right leg on the bench, sitting to the left of me, and lightly gripped my shirt. With a surprisingly soft countenance and his shoulders caving inwards, he confessed, "I always have."_

"_What?" I was taken aback by this, my elbows just barely touching the backrest of the bench. Where was all of this coming from? "When did this start?"_

"_Don't you like me too, Satoshi-kun?" He murmured into my ear, nuzzling his nose against my skin. He cooed, "I want you."_

_It was at this point where I realized I was dreaming._

_If you could call this a dream._

_He kissed my jaw, working his way to my lips, and I let him, too paralyzed from confusion to argue otherwise. His haunting butterfly kisses left burning marks on my skin, but chilled immediately—it was the most surreal sensation I had ever felt, to touch the lips of, for a lack of a better phrase, burning ice. And his hands cupped my face, gingerly pulling myself closer to him._

"_Tell me you like me too."_

_He suckled on my top lip, sometimes lazily brushing his bottom lip against mine. It was faint, almost nonexistent, but sensual. His tongue moistened our lips, but didn't probe. It was a shy kiss. Soft, tender nips._

"_Where," I panted, getting overwhelmed by this, "Why?"_

"_Tell me you like me too," he cooed. "Please…"_

"_I don't know you," I confessed, sympathizing when tears formed in his eyes. He pulled away, not daring to look me in the eyes as he choked in a sob. "You said this wasn't serious."_

"_I…" His eyes, like the veined leaves of a cherry blossom, pierced mine, and he said, "I know you're lying to me."_

I woke up, staring straight at my ceiling, panting. Out of curiosity, I grazed my forefinger against my lips. I was trembling. It was the strangest dream I had ever had, and I couldn't find any reason for having it. Of the dream signs I knew, I could only muster up the theory that my subconscious had formed a version of Takeshi that didn't exist, but why would it?

_/Thinking about the dream again, my love?/_

_It won't leave me; it bothers me._

_/I told you this the morning, Satoshi-sama. You are attracted to our beloved puppy. There is nothing wrong./_

_No. Stop thinking that._

_/You flirt with him, kiss him—/_

_He kissed me._

_/And you let him. My everything, you are in such denial. Accept your emotions for what they are./_

It just doesn't make sense.

_**Takeshi**_

Wednesday, 3:32 PM

Alright, so I've only been to Satoshi's house three times in my life and in only one of those times did I actually bring food. So, yeah, I kind of lied to Shokaido-sensei, but since I'll be taking him grocery shopping this weekend, not so much. In the past, I visited Satoshi when my father was working because he needed to give papers to Satoshi, who was off his work shift. I was a messenger, basically. And the last time, well… Yeah. I don't think I'll be trading off my virginity again anytime soon.

At least, I hope not.

I don't know what I'm capable of anymore.

It is peaceful now inside his home, barren and quiet. I slip my backpack onto the floor, near the door, and follow Satoshi into the common area of his home, which he gestures towards with a small welcome. There is one brown couch, the kind of brown that reminds of you trees—or perhaps bitter chocolate? It's earthy. But it isn't soft, a fact I find out when sitting on it, my head uncomfortably placed on the armrest. This was a couch clearly bought on price, not on quality. I look up at Satoshi, who is standing near his computer desk with crossed arms.

"Your couch is hard," I mention. "You should get a new couch."

"I don't need a new one."

"Do you ever sit in this couch?" I ask, lifting myself upright and slip my shoes off.

"No."

"Oh." That explains everything. "Where do you put your shoes?"

"By the window," he says, pointing to a small white-framed window near the door.

I walk over there with my shoes and place them there, unsure of what to do next. The kitchen, which is to the right of me, is spartan and entirely off-shade white. I figure I might as well batch something up to pass the time. Today was scheduled to have a visit over Satoshi's house, perhaps for a study date, but no homework of extreme length was due today. We had both managed to finish our assignments in class, so we unfortunately left us with no choice but to stare at each other and wonder what to do.

"You hungry?" I ask nonchalantly and open his refrigerator door.

He must have gone to his room because when he answered, "sure," his voice was faint. I shrug and pull out one tomato I found, one package of ramen noodles, and two eggs. I didn't have the greatest choice of ingredients, but a small snack can be managed with these. There is a block of cheese, but I decide not to bother with it.

"I have," he says, stepping into the kitchen, but stops.

I look over my shoulder and ask, "You don't mind if I cook, do you?"

"You don't have to," he says, sighing. "You are in my house. I should be serving you."

"I don't mind, really." I smile. "It'll take ten minutes, tops. I swear."

"No, I mean…"

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you don't like my cooking," I joke.

He winces.

_**Satoshi**_

"_Tell me you like me."_

"Do whatever you want," I mutter, leaving the kitchen.

I sit myself down on my ergonomic chair (Father bought this as some sort of birthday present, I think) and turn on my laptop. I can hear water running in the sink as Takeshi hums a little melody. My laptop arrives to the log-in screen, loads up the VeriFace program and scans my face to let me in my computer. It might be paranoia, but I enjoy the comfort that my computer needs my face in order to work.

To Hell with _Nineteen Eighty-Four._

"What do you have to drink?"

"Water," I answer.

"That's it?"

"A person needs eight cups of water per day. Water is fine."

"A person also needs other vitamins, which can be found in other drinks."

"Or foods," I argue, opening my Documents folder to view my Case Briefcase. I type in my password.

"Foods you don't have," Takeshi retorts.

"I survive."

He groans, annoyed, and says, "You can't live like this. There's so much good food out there and you're rejecting it. You're saying no to fine dining. You're saying no to some of the best ingredients on the face of the _planet._ You're saying no to _life. Life is food is life!_"

"I don't do much grocery shopping."

"Then I'm taking you on Sunday."

"Don't we have a date on Sunday?"

"A walk in the park to experience our first kiss, but apparently that went down the drain last night."

_/You rather enjoyed that moment./_

_Shut up._

_/You take advantage of all the playtime you have with our beloved puppy. How I would adore meeting our Take-kun in person…/_

_Don't you even __**dare.**_

_/My everything, I would behave. One must be gentle with pets—/_

_This fetish of yours is beyond creepy. I don't __**trust**__ you near Takeshi—and honestly, he doesn't need to get involved. _

_/I could lie./_

_And how do you explain the wings?_

_/No wings. Wouldn't you enjoy that? No pain on your behalf./_

_And your clothes? People today don't dress like overzealous Christian missionaries._

_/I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I borrow a sweater or a pair of jeans./_

_You're bigger than me—and—and why am I __**talking**__ about this? You are not transforming!_

_/And who are you to decide such a thing?/_

I clutch my chest, panicking. Suddenly, Takeshi leans his head on top of mine, startling me. He chuckles and asks, "What's wrong? It's just me. Anyway, the food is almost ready, so save your work."

"I…" I stand up abruptly, jerking away from him. "I have to go to the bathroom."

_/Perfect. Easier for me./_

_Don't do this, Krad. This isn't worth it. He won't understand anything—_

_/I would just like to speak with him. I won't be long, I promise. Have I ever broken my word?/_

_More times than I can—_

"Satoshi?"

I slam my bedroom door behind me, rushing towards my bathroom. And I—

_**Krad**_

_/Was that transformation so awful?/_

He didn't answer, too frustrated with my actions, I imagine. As it is a daily reaction towards my existence, it wasn't much of a heartbreaking bother. Oh, woe is me whenever I am rejected. Woe.

"Satoshi?" Takeshi-kun knocked on the door, rather worried over the bluenette, inquiring, "Is everything okay? Do you want me to call the doctor? Or give you something?"

Unfortunately, I was not blessed with the ability to mimic voices. It was endearing, really, listening to his heartfelt concern while I slipped on an old red sweater—the reddest it could ever be—with a pair of jeans. I suppose they belonged to Kei, but again, it didn't matter.

_/Should I answer?/_

_No. Just hum a response. You bastard, getting us into this. Open the window and go through the front door._

_/Such work. Wouldn't it be easier if I simply open the door?/_

_How do you expect to explain why you're in the house?_

"Are you alright?"

"Mmhmm," I answer, donning on a pair of shoes, white.

"Well, alright… I guess I'll leave you in the bathroom. I'll heat the food when you come out if it gets cold, okay?"

How charmingly sweet.

_Go out the damn window. The faster we get this over with, the more I don't appear to be on laxatives._

_**Takeshi**_

Someone's knocking at the door.

"Hmm?"

I open the door to find a mister, a blonde one at that. He grins, bows, and greets, "Hello."

"Oh, um, hello." I open the door slightly wider. "Are you expecting anyone?"

"I'm just visiting," he murmurs, his voice a bit more seductive than I'm accustomed to. "I believe we haven't met. My name is Krad."

"Uh…" I bow slightly. "Hello. I am Saehara Takeshi. If… if you're looking for Satoshi, he's a little busy right now, but he'll be done in a few minutes."

"Satoshi. Yes. I am his cousin. Hiwatari Krad."

That's weird. Satoshi never mentioned having any family members in the city, or at least any visiting. Beyond that, I would have never imagined his cousin being a blonde, with his father being a brunette and all. I didn't want to be rude, so I let him inside the house, motioning towards the kitchen, where he observed the food.

"You cook very well, I hear."

"Hmm? You hear?"

"Satoshi-kun speaks highly of your culinary skills."

"Culinary skills" instead of "cooking." Oh yeah. Definitely family.

"Oh, well, uh…" I blush, a little flustered about what to do. "Would you like some? I don't have much, but I could give you a little taste."

"No, it's quite fine. I trust that it's good."

"So, what brings you here? He never mentioned you coming, I'm sorry."

"I felt like visiting. Just a surprise."

"Do you live in the city?"

He nodded, nearing me.

"No. You are his current lover, yes?"

"It's for an article," I answer, blushing more. "It's not real."

"You are a charming boy," he coos. "It's a shame."

He nears further, making me nervous when I bump against the kitchen counter. I shrug my shoulders and ask, "Hiwatari-san—?"

"Please, call me Krad."

I hesitate, but can't bring myself to be so informal with him, so I apologize, "I'm sorry, Hiwatari-san, but I just met you. If you wait, Satoshi will be right out."

"I just came to check if he was home."

"Oh."

He is just merely inches away from me, mentally pinning me to the kitchen counter. I gulp, taking my left shoulder back as he leans closer to me and asks, "Has he kissed you?"

"Wh—What?" I blink. "Er, yeah?"

"And did you like it?"

Krad smirks, tantalizing my lips with his. I didn't realize how handsome he is with those powerful golden-brown eyes, and those never-ending blonde tresses, and… those… strong hands gripping my waist… and his tall, dark… demean—

HOLY CRAP, AM I CHEATING ON SATOSHI WITH HIS COUSIN?

HIS _MALE_ COUSIN?!

Calm yourself, Takeshi.

There is no room for panicking when getting molested.

"I don't think we should be doing this," I timidly—almost pathetically—say, softly nudging him away. Because when I'm getting molested, it's not appropriate to bring out the super _man strength I was born with,_ oh no. When I'm getting cornered by an incredibly hot-and-willing male, I am suddenly his bitch.

I did not want to learn this about myself.

"He doesn't have to know," he whispers, kissing the corner of my mouth and gripping me closer to him. I squeak, frozen and evidently bashful.

"I'm not—"

He kisses me, his left hand holding the back of my neck while his right took a firm grip of my thigh, lifting it—lifting_ me_ onto the kitchen counter. This is so _wrong_—I—I—I shouldn't be doing this! I shouldn't be getting entranced by Krad's tongue or tugging on his sweater to pull him closer to me or letting his hands slip down to my butt to grind his groin against or—

WHAT THE HELL _AM_ I DOING?

"Oh my god," I pulled away, holding Krad's lips away from mine. We're panting—okay, it's kind of hot—and I've just been violated—and I can't think straight—and I… I… What is going _on? _

"Why…" My eyes widen when Krad takes my hands, pinning them behind me against the cabinets. I gasp out, "Why are you doing this? I just met you—and you just came—and I thought you were here to visit Satoshi—holy crap, I'm so confused—_and what the hell is he doing in that freaking bathroom?_"

He chuckles, releasing me.

"Alright, I suppose I am being a tad bit aggressive."

A TAD?

Good grief, I wonder what's aggressive.

I need to take better care of my virginity.

This is why I shouldn't have nice things.

"We will continue this some other time," Krad says, stepping back and walking out of the kitchen as if, what, you crazy? He totally didn't just start making out with me out of nowhere. That was just my imagination going _wild_ with _special effects!_

Seriously, though, Krad needs some manners.

"Have a nice day."

He closes the door behind him. I sit there on the kitchen counter, legs still spread apart, hands still pinned to the cabinets; my body is paralyzed. I have no idea what happened, and even more importantly, I have no idea if I should mention this to Satoshi. Thing is, this might be important to mention in my column: beware of incredibly sexy cousin willing to _fuck you_ in the kitchen while Satoshi is still in the house. Yet, some people might be into that. Threesomes. Adultery.

I'm so confused.

"Are you alright?" Satoshi stares at me.

Immediately, I cross my legs and clutch the edge of the kitchen counter. I think about my words (appropriate diction is crucial) and say, "Your cousin was just here."

"I know." Satoshi nods. "He just called."

"Oh."

"Did he…" Satoshi looks away.

"He was very friendly," I half-lie, too embarrassed to attempt explaining what just happened. "And he said he'll come back."

We make eye contact, and a part me thinks that Satoshi knows what his cousin did. I don't think his cousin would just flat-out tell Satoshi, but maybe Krad has a past with this type of thing, which poses some questions, but I won't even get into that. Despite everything, I feel guilty. Really, really guilty… and I'm not sure why.

"Do you want to eat?" I ask, shyly. I want to change the mood. "The food is still warm."

"Perhaps you should head home."

Hopping to my feet, I turn around and open the cabinets to take out two bowls. I ignore what I heard and scoop our servings into the dishes. He repeats himself however, but I hand him his bowl. At first he rejects, but accepts.

"I don't want to go home," I say. "Not yet."

"Why?"

"It's nice spending time with someone in the afternoons, for once." I shrug. "I don't do this often. I'm always doing house work."

As I leave the kitchen, he says, "I know he kissed you without permission."

"It's fine."

A moment.

"I won't let him do that again, I assure you."

I grin, and tease, "You know, Mr. Hiwatari, it seems I'm your little damsel in distress, constantly being chased by evil men."

"You have your attractive qualities," he says, walking past me to sit at the table. I blush, observing him quickly, and reply, "I guess that's why we're dating."

"I guess so."

**linebreakerwehavethebiggestpartyihavethebiggestpartyathomethosetwosentencesaretheonlylyricsinthissongitssobadasstolistentoijustfeelgangstalikeicouldwalkthestreetsandscareatenyearold**

**Schizo: **Now, more eventful stuff shall happen in the future. For those that anticipated the newspaper meeting with Miyasaki from last chapter, don't worry. You weren't jipped. That still happens, just I nixed my crappy newspaper idea.

Oh, did I mention that? Yeah. A lot of this story changed in my head because my ideas when I was seventeen (just barely) are crap compared to my AWESOME eighteen-year-old ideas (take that, youth.) I am honestly eighteen, guys. I know I don't act it right now, but it's mainly because I'm excited to have finally posted a new chapter. Next chapter should be in a week or less. Should be. If not, blame my friends. But seriously, I'll just bring a notepad. That's what I did yesterday. A good four pages was written in Barnes and Nobles in a notepad. Sometimes I don't care about friendship.

I love you Friends. Don't hurt me.

Review please.

Cheers -Steph


	6. Ooooohhh! Emotional Development!

**Schizo: **Hey! I'm back! I'm, uh, three days late, but whatever. I'm back in a fairly decent time! Honestly, the only reason why I'm late is because I kept hating everything I wrote, constantly shouting at myself, "CRAP. YOU WRITE CRAP. WHAT THE HELL, SCHIZO?" But eventually I got to a "decent" love with this chapter. Still a little iffy about it, but I think it should suit you all finely. Anyway, I commence the **weening** to the **lemons**, but there are still **no** lemons, which means the story is still a T.

This chapter is crazy long, guys. It's twenty-six pages long. So, like, if you just told your mother you'd go to bed in ten minutes: It ain't happening if you try to read this first. I fully endorse staying up late though, but not too late. My chapters aren't THAT long.

Oh, and **thank you so much** for reviewing the last chapter! I honestly--no seriously--didn't expect that many, if any, reviews because I was gone for so long. I thought I would come back to an abandoned land... but you're still here! (some of you) And for that, I am grateful to you all.

I do not own DNAngel. We discussed this.

**linebreakermakeanightflighthaveaniceflightlisteningtoperfumeat711inthemorningnotevenlyingitstotally711andiwantaslurpeenowfornoreasonotherthanthetimebutsee711isagoodmileformesouhno**

_**Takeshi**_

He sits at the head of the table, which doesn't have a tablecloth on it. However, it does have two royal blue placemats, one which is stained and the other perfectly untouched, except for one faint vertical fold in the center. In the center of the table rests a swan-shaped napkin holder. Satoshi reaches over to it, pulling two paper napkins and places one to his right, another to the adjacent placemat.

"Why does this one look so new?" I ask, placing my bowl on the placemat in question.

"I pulled it out because you were coming today."

Before I sit down, I go over to my backpack and pull out my notepad and pencil. And as I walk over to my chair, I flip the pages to my questions, sit down, and dot the pencil on my tongue. Makes the graphite darker and easier to read. I think.

"I have a few questions," I announce.

"Eat first."

My shoulders sink. Without a reaction—nothing but a stern glare while shoving tomato-stained ramen noodles into his mouth—whatsoever, he ignores my pleading eyes with complimentary pout. I rest my elbow on the table while I eat, giving in to procrastinating my interview for a few minutes, and digest the silence in the air along with my food. He doesn't comment, just continues to eat.

"Do you like it?" I ask, curious.

"What did you add to this?"

"Oh, um, basil."

"I have basil?"

I titter softly, amused by the fact that Satoshi doesn't even know what he has in his own kitchen. Yet, I nod, "Yeah. You do. You have some basic spices."

We sit there quietly eating. The moment is still awkward from what just happened minutes before. Despite the fact that I'm trying to change the subject, the reality is still sitting in front of us. I try not to think of Krad, try to come up with a conversation-starter at least, but fail miserably. Thankfully, however, Satoshi breaks the silence.

"Who taught you how to cook?"

"Um… No one, really. I just learned." I shrug. "Dad never cooks, not even a barbeque or something. The most he does in the kitchen is use the microwave, and that's to heat up the meals I leave for him."

"How did you get fed when you were little then?"

"Oh. I ate a _lot_ of frozen dinners and take-out. My cholesterol was skyrocketing—and really, the only reason why I wasn't a fat kid was because I was always running outside looking for junk to collect, analyze, and put in boxes."

"Why?"

"I wanted to be a Trace Evidence Analyst when I was little."

Satoshi stares at me. Laughing nervously, I explain, "I didn't have a daycare to go to after school, so I had to walk to the police agency. I used to do my homework in the lobby, occasionally talking to the convicts whenever they looked like they were wondering why a six-year-old was doing his multiplication problems next to a hooker."

"You were exposed to such a world at the age of _six?_"

I take a bite of my eggs.

"Mm-hmm. My dad didn't get his own office until I was ten, so I did my homework in the lobby. When I was finished, my dad would give me some money to go to the vending machines in the break room, but sometimes I just kept the money and took a snack from the refrigerator. Anyways, after that, I would normally roam around, and I always found myself in the laboratories or the evidence rooms."

"And they let you in?"

"Well, I didn't do anything, just watched." I smirked. "It's a different way of growing up, but while most kids were playing in playgrounds, I was helping officers find the bin with all the hair samples for a homicide case. I guess you can kind of understand my morbid fascinations."

"What time would you get home?"

I'm surprised Satoshi is even interested in this topic. He finished his food quickly, set his bowl aside, and turned towards me while I was explaining all of this. It's just different when your father is a detective in a police agency, I guess.

"In the beginning, I used to come home around eight. Hmm, when I was six… I think my dad was a… Sergeant? Yeah, I think so. He became an Inspector when I was ten, I think, when he got his own office." I grin, proudly going further, "And then of course, when I was twelve, he became Chief Inspector."

What was the point of this again?

Oh. Right.

"I started cooking when I turned eight. It was entirely by accident too. See, sometimes I watched television in the break room, so I would watch crime documentaries, cartoons, or Human Anatomy specials on the public television channels. By that age, I wanted to work in the autopsy labs. If you're wondering why I suddenly wanted to be a journalist, it's not so bizarre. My career choices mainly revolved around my curiosity on what happened. I got bored with being a Trace Evidence Analyst because you could only study what you had, and I got bored with being a pathologist because people generally die in similar ways. I wanted to know the story, not the result. Journalism just seemed so obvious."

"Quite different worlds, though. One involves science, the other literature."

"Yeah. I used to _suck_ at writing, you have no idea. But I kept practicing."

Ack. I keep getting off topic.

"_Anyway,_ yeah, so, I was trying to find a good documentary, but the antennae gave out. So I adjusted it and tried to find a show to watch when suddenly an episode of _Foods to Die For_ was on and the featured chef was cooking this amazing paella. I wanted that paella so badly. I asked my dad if he could buy it at the supermarket. And he told me you couldn't buy that as a frozen meal, you had to cook it."

"So you started cooking because of one dish you saw on television?"

"Sort of. I went on the computer and started for looking for recipes to make the dish, figuring that it couldn't be too hard to do. In my quest, I found recipes for pastas, desserts, meats, seafood—a whole new world of amazing food beyond TV dinners. Part of me was pissed off that I was missing out, but it died quickly when I asked my dad to go to the grocery store to get some ingredients. I was only allowed to cook when he was home, though."

"Precautionary."

"I started small, figuring out how to sauté vegetables and fry meat. Eventually, I worked up to more complicated recipes, but… I burnt a _lot_ of food. Dad would always swallow it, pretending not to notice that a good portion of my meals were ashes, but I got better. After a year or two, I started cooking dinner because I refused to have anything prepackaged ever _again_. And I—"

My cell phone rings.

"Oh, um, hold on."

I get up, heading towards my backpack. When I pull out my cell phone to see the number on the screen, I'm shocked to find out it's my mother.

"Hello?" I greet, suspiciously. "Mom?"

"_Hello, dearie. I just called your father."_

"Okay. Is something wrong?"

"_No! Why do you always say that whenever I call?"_

"Because you rarely call my cell phone."

"_Well, you're not answering the home phone. Where are you, by the way?"_

"You still rarely call my cell. And it's not important where I am."

I glance over to Satoshi, who must have overheard that I was speaking to my mother, and notice his somewhat baffled expression. I rarely bring up my mother… to anybody. Personally, I'm not sure if my friends believe me when I tell them she exists. My mother is, in fact, alive—and yes, she is still married to my father. No divorce.

"_Alright, fine, I'll compromise."_

My mother is a corporate executive of YinTo! Galleries, some company that organizes art galleries around the world. So, my mother is constantly on business trips planning galas with artists and other business partners. Occasionally she treats me like a partner, uttering phrases like "I'll compromise" instead of "fine, I'll let it go."

"_I called to inform you I'll be coming home Thursday evening."_

"You are? For how long?"

"_Oh, just the weekend. I'll be flying to France on Monday. I have to host a festival. You know how it is, right, dearie?"_

"Yeah. Okay. That's cool. So—wait, Thursday? That's tomorrow."

"_No, dearie, I'm talking about next Thursday. Oh, and don't make any plans for Friday. I'm scheduling our Family Group Therapy session with Dr. Yamashiro at four o'clock."_

"Um," I bite my lip, and whisper. "That might be a problem."

"_Why? We always have our sessions when I'm in town."_

"I know, but… I, uh… have a date that night."

"_You do?" _She perks up, always excited about affairs of any kind. _"With who? Do I know her?"_

"Um, it's not really important. I just don't think I can go at four. I have to be somewhere by eight."

"_We'll be done. We'll have the family session for a half hour, then have our single sessions right after. I'll make sure we're out by seven, alright, dearie? You can still enjoy your little date. Oh! Do I get to meet the girl?"_

"No. It's, uh, a meet-me-there type of thing."

"_Oh. Alright. Well then, that's all I have to say. I have to go now, the reception in this building is not too good."_

"Okay. Bye Mom."

"_Goodbye, dearie! See you on Thursday!"_

She hung up.

I cross my arms, a bit worried, and explain to Satoshi, "My mother just called."

"I forgot such a woman exists."

"If I'm late for our date next Friday, it's because I'm, uh, in therapy."

There really isn't an easy way to avoid saying that without sounding fairly pathetic.

"Therapy?" His brows furrow. "Why?"

"My mother is coming home next Thursday for the weekend. Usually when she visits, we go to another Family Group Therapy session." I nod my head, digesting that fact. "Yup… That's what we do."

"Any particular reason… why?"

"She's a business associate. It's practically mandatory that anyone in business have a psychotherapist. My mother just drags my father and me along because a few years ago, I made the horrible mistake of asking 'Why isn't Mommy home?' So, she started getting anxiety attacks that our family was being torn apart, I was a neglected child, and divorce was right around the corner. Dad and I just go along with it to make her happy."

I twiddle with the lamp shade near the couch. It's a floor lamp, white lamp shade, chain switch. It matches the house only because of the lamp shade. In fact, nothing in this house matches to be honest—not that that is important in life, but Satoshi's home gives the impression that he picked up furniture and put it in his house, calling it a day's work done.

"Do the sessions go well?"

"Yeah, most of the time. After the group session, we have one-on-one with the therapist. I guess it's okay," I say, lifting myself to sit on the head of the couch. "I never know what to say."

"That's ironic."

He gathers our plates, bringing them to the kitchen to wash them.

"I'm scared that if I say something weird, I'll be diagnosed with something."

"You realize you have the option of denying medication, right?"

"I don't want to know that I have a reason to take meds in the first place."

"You've gotten this far. You'll be fine."

"Our last session was weird."

I don't go further because the running sink is too loud. Besides, I shouldn't anyway. Who talks about therapy so openly, anyhow? The last session with Dr. Yamashiro was eerily more personal than usual, whether it was the unsettling outburst during the family session—

"_No, Mom, I am __**not**__ a stalker!"_

"_Then, dearie, why are you always following that Phantom Thief Dark? Hmm?"_

—or the actual one-on-one with Dr. Yamashiro:

"_We don't have to talk about Dark if you don't want to, Saehara-san," Dr. Yamashiro said, crossing her legs as she took a seat in her teal chair. She brushed her bangs out of her vision to read her notes from our last session, and commented, "In fact, I have another topic I'd like to discuss."_

"_Okay," I said, fidgeting in the black three-seated couch provided. She said I could lie down if I wanted, but I never did, always sitting to the far left with the armrest. _

"_What are your passions, Saehara? Is it just journalism?"_

"_I like writing, and I like cooking."_

"_What do you enjoy writing about?"_

"_I don't know," I said, shrugging. I looked out the window, which had a view of a McDonald's, and spoke as I thought, "Stuff. I write whatever comes to mind—it doesn't always make sense, like… I mean, they're never really finished."_

"_You never finish your writing?"_

"_No, I never finish the stories."_

"_Do you have any reason why?"_

"_Well, usually I stop before the characters really develop." I made eye contact with her, noticing that she wore magenta eye shadow. "Sometimes I just want to write a scene. I don't really care about who the characters are."_

"_Would you say that you enjoy action more than sentiment?"_

_I nod, disagreeing._

"_Then why don't you try finishing a story?"_

_I thought about it._

"_I guess I'm scared that people won't like the characters I create," I answer. "That's stupid, though. I never let anyone read my stories, so why be scared, right?"_

"_Perhaps it is more than just your characters."_

_**Satoshi**_

He comes into the kitchen and props himself onto the counter space next to the sink, taking out his notepad and pencil simultaneously crossing his legs. I watch this out of the corner of my eye, taking note of his idiosyncratic mannerisms: twirling a tuft of his bangs before flipping his notepad open, biting his lip as he reads, resting the eraser-end of his pencil on his right cheek, forming a dimple.

"Alright," he says, reaching down to the sink and turning off the cold water. "Questions."

"I don't believe that couples interview each other."

"No fair," he glares. "You asked _me_ questions. This whole thing is supposed to be about _you,_ not me."

Before I could protest, he asks, "What are your hobbies?"

"I don't have any."

"You _have_ to have hobbies. Everyone does!"

"I'm always working. I don't have time for hobbies."

"You have spare time! What do you call this?" He waves his hands in the arms, metaphorically calling our existence my spare time. "What do you do in it?"

"I apparently take the time to pretend being a journalist's lover."

He blushes.

"No, seriously."

"You already know what I do in my spare time." I sigh, reaching behind him for the dish rag. Takeshi gently turns my head to face him and asks, "Do you really work all the time?"

"Clearly not _all _the time. I am here with you, letting the time dwindle with small-talk."

A grin scissors its way onto his face. Sharply, he turns to his notepad jotting down some words and says, "You know, you give weird compliments."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Next question: Am I allowed to disclose that you work for the police agency?" He hesitates, but adds, "'Cause if girls date you, they should probably know that you'll be busy."

"Don't go beyond what is allowed—"

"Perfect! I can mention your father with that, then, so it'll be flowing. Oh, and um," A faint blush creeps onto Takeshi's face, highlighting his cheek bones. "Should I mention Krad?"

Krad.

I always figured that the limitation to Krad's torture was mental, but the man has managed to cause me pain by meddling with my affairs. How could I explain to Takeshi that his mention of my supposed "cousin" would be in vain, considering my "cousin" only exists to spend some quality time with him in particular? And when I say "quality time," I am clearly disguising some rather frightening motives for assignations.

"No," I answer. "He doesn't visit often, so I doubt anyone besides you would ever meet him."

"That's what you said about your father. Am I some sort of freak person that gets to meet the people in your life?"

"Yes."

A pause.

"Whatever." He whispers a reminder to himself to not mention Krad by name, but a small hint. "Question three: Do you enjoy physical contact or mental stimulation?"

_/Take-kun seems more of a physical person, wouldn't you think?/_

_Sometimes I wish I could strangle you with your own hair._

"I don't know."

"Think about it."

I never moved beyond my stance; instead, I held the dishrag loosely while just slightly pressed against his knee. So, when he demanded I ponder the thought, I concentrated on his foot vaguely brushing my thigh. In the midst of my thinking, he leans in and muses, "It's not too hard. Would you rather be kissed or talked to?"

"That's an unfair question coming from you."

"Why?"

"You talk too much," I scoff. "Of course I'd rather be kissed if it'll quiet you for a few minutes."

"Oh yeah?"

His knee jerks away, and he jumps off the counter, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?"

To be honest, I'm shocked that Takeshi didn't take the opportunity to tease me—a cliché move at kissing me or something of the like. Walking away from our bickering is a new move. In some way he knew this, I imagine, because he stops at the dividing wall of the kitchen and the hallway, leaning on his left foot—hip slightly anchored—and looks over his shoulder, baring his signature fang. It's… oddly sexual.

"Home," he answers, smirking. "I'll spare you the torture of my voice and leave."

"Your voice is fine. You just talk too much."

I know he's bluffing. Despite this decoy of his…

_/—alluring—/_

…poster, I know he's bluffing.

"Besides, you're forgetting your backpack in the living room."

"Why can't you admit that you like my company?"

_/Even our pet knows you adore him./_

_If only he knew that I despise you._

_/Irrational insults? Why, your jealousy is quite amusing./_

_I am not __**jealous**__ of you! Do you even __**realize**__ what you've __**done?**__ Takeshi thinks you exist! How—What—Why? Why do you do this to me?_

_/I wanted to feel what you felt. Do remember that I deal with hatred on a daily basis./_

_If that's an endeavor for my sympathy, I will deny you of it. I'm afraid I don't shove Takeshi onto kitchen counters taking away the little innocence he has left._

_/Only because you are a coward. Satoshi-sama, you must understand that one cannot achieve anything by waiting forever./_

_**Takeshi**_

His eyes shifted to the right downwards, and he tilted his head down as if listening to someone behind him. Yet again, I lost him to whatever thoughts going through his head. Oh well. I might as well leave then, considering I _do_ actually have to cook my father's meal along with Friday's because my date with Satoshi will be around 3-4 that afternoon. No time.

"Never mind," I mutter, rolling my eyes as I head over to the couch, where my backpack rests on the left armrest.

"You've scheduled almost every waking day I have in the ten weeks to be with you," he replies finally, becoming more audible when he enters the hallway. "You don't give me a choice on whether or not I _should_ enjoy your company."

I softly laugh, amused by his awkward phrasing. He doesn't make any sense, and we both know it.

"Alright, Mister Hiwatari. Whatever you say."

"Don't give me that."

I try to leave, but Satoshi blocks me each time I try to pass him. My shoulders sink and I pout, gazing up at him to mewl, "Why are you being so mean?"

Passive aggressiveness.

I _love _it.

"You know damn well what you're doing and I won't let you have your way this time," he says, _sternly_—because Mister Hiwatari is _stern man _with his _stern emotions_.

Alright, so I'm just giggling in front of his face.

"Oh really? Is that so?" I take a step back, cocking my head to the right. "What am I doing?"

"You're avoiding the issue," he sighs. "You're constantly doing this—dodging the situation, teasing it."

I lean in, "You mean, teasing _you._"

"That's beside the point."

"_Ah,_ look who's avoiding the issue now." I sneer, bringing my fingers to his waist and taking a grip. "Listen, you don't have to study me. I study _you_ and then I write about what I find out."

His hands cover mine.

"I'm a writer," I state. "You're just going to have to deal with the fact that I like the details more than the big picture, but it's so hard getting them out of you. Teasing you is the only way."

We gravitate towards each other, a kiss just around the corner, but we both pull away. I wonder why this keeps happening, why we both seem to always be so comfortable getting so close. It's like we don't even think about it, like it's natural. This whole relationship so far isn't even hard—not even awkward—just is. I can tease Satoshi as if I've flirted with him all my life, and that feels weird.

"So," I take my hands back, slipping past him. "Tomorrow will be relatively calm. You have to call me—"

"I don't have your number."

"I'll give it to you tomorrow in lunch. Anyways, um, if you want, I also have a newspaper meeting tomorrow. It's our Round-Up meeting, so it won't get canceled, I promise."

"I'll join."

I nod, lean in and kiss his cheek as a goodbye, and chime, "Jaa ne!"

"Later."

I leave.

_**Satoshi**_

Last night's dream:

_This time, we were in my house. I found him sprawled out on my dining table, ruffling his fingers in his hair to shag it up and giggling. Between his fingers and tufted hair, he spotted me staring and smiled. He sat up, pulling down his plaid button-down shirt so he wouldn't expose his stomach, and lifted his knees to his chest. _

"_Hello Satoshi-kun," he cooed. "How was your day?"_

"_It was fine."_

_He stretched his arms towards me, scrunching his fingers so I'd come over, and I did. Lacing my fingers with his, he pulled me closer to him for a kiss. Giddily, he nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck and let his feet drop down and dangle over the floor. _

"_I missed you today," he murmured into my ear. _

"_Missed me? How could you miss me when you see me all day?"_

"_No, I don't," he whined, simultaneously wrapping his arms around my neck. "You're gone all day."_

"_We go to school together."_

"_I don't see you in school."_

"_You see me in lunch."_

"_No…" He pouted, "I only see you now."_

"_What are you __**talking**__ about, Takeshi?"_

_Instantly, as if insulted, he pulled away from me and hisses, "Don't call me Takeshi."_

"_But that's your na—"_

"_I'm __**Take-kun.**__" _

"_Take-kun?"_

_Perking up, he nodded approvingly and embraced me in his arms once again. I didn't know what to think of this—well, honestly, I didn't understand this. At this point, I acknowledged I was dreaming again, priding myself for conquering such a difficult task twice in a row, but the next obstacle was figuring out what my subconscious was trying to tell me—because at the moment…_

"_Satoshi…"_

_Takeshi kissed me, pulling me closer and wrapping his legs around my waist._

"_Mmmm…"_

—_My subconscious seems to be telling me that I just want to kiss Takeshi._

"_I'll do whatever you want me to do," he cooed._

_Or maybe more?_

"_Why are you acting this way?" I asked, taking a soft grip of his face and pulling away. "You don't act like this. You're not this submissive."_

"_You want me to be," he bluntly said, as if this were obvious. "Silly, I'm everything you want me to be."_

_I blinked._

"_Excuse me?"_

"_I'm not Takeshi," he clarified, sternly emphasizing on the word 'not.' He caressed my cheek, smiling. "I'm much better."_

_My subconscious formed a dream mate. _

_But my dream mate still looked exactly like Takeshi?_

"_Oh god," I gasped. _

_I was physically attracted?_

"_Oh god," I gasped._

"_What's wrong, Satoshi-kun?" He kissed me. "You're acting so strange. Do you want to lie down? I can cook you something. Or…"_

_He slipped his hand down to my waist._

"_...Or we could do something __**else.**__"_

I woke up panting and clutching my lower abdomen. This can't be happening.

_**Daisuke**_

Thursday, 8:32 AM

"Okay, you're the only one I can tell this to, so you have to keep this a secret."

I manage to grab my granola bar before getting swooped away from my desk to the storage closet. With a small "whoa!" and blurred vision for a few seconds, I catch my breath when I realize I was momentarily kidnapped by Takeshi, eager to spill some gossip. He closes the closet door, securing our privacy, and takes a moment to calm down. I take the few seconds of silence to open the wrapper to my granola bar and take a bite.

I swallow.

"Okay, what?"

"Alright." Takeshi takes a deep breath. "Okay. Now, this is going to sound crazy, but it's totally true and you gotta believe me. Okay?"

"Alright, alright!" I laugh, getting excited with the build-up. "Just say it already."

"Okay." He smiles widely, trying to mask his excitement but failing. "So I went over to Satoshi's house yesterday, right?"

"Right."

"Holy crap, I can't believe I'm telling you this, but… Okay, so I was there, and he had to go to the bathroom…"

I take a bite of my granola, anticipating some item he stole from Satoshi's house.

"…and his cousin came and we totally made out and I have no idea what to think because he's a guy—_but he's really hot, Niwa,_ so it doesn't count, right?"

_/Starting off my morning with some of the reporter's love life?/_

_I guess so._

I take another bite of my granola.

"Wmmwho ish heee?" I say in between chewing. I wish I had more time to eat breakfast so I wouldn't have to talk while eating.

"His name's Krad—"

I choke.

Wait. Hold on.

WHAT?!

_/HOLY FREAKING SHIT./_

_AAAAAH! THIS IS HORRIBLE!_

_/HOLY FREAKING SHIT./_

_AAAAAH! WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?!_

_/HOLY FREAKING SHIT. IT'S A FREAKING LOVE TRIANGLE./_

_WHY DOES TAKESHI KNOW WHO KRAD IS?_

_/Oh, I don't care about that. I mean, whatever. I talk to people, but… Come on. This is getting __**juicy**__. Creepy Boy and Homicidal Maniac are totally going for the same guy!/_

_Why aren't you taking this seriously?! It's KRAD. KRAD. Do you __**remember**__ Krad? You know, the guy __**always trying to murder us!**_

_/Yeah, I kn—Wait, you haven't spoken. Speak! Speak, damn it!/_

"_What?_" I ask, still shocked about the whole thing.

"I know; it's a weird name, but that's it. Krad." He quickly nods. "Uh-huh, yeah, Krad. And he has really long blonde hair and he's so _tall, and dreamy_, and I can't even believe I feel this way, but seriously, Niwa, you'd go gay too if you saw this _man._"

_/Well, he's kind of right. The only reason why you don't like Krad is because of that whole must-murder-Niwas thing./_

_Yeah. That's a bit of a turn-off._

_/I'd totally bang him though./_

_**What?**_

_/Yeah, but it wouldn't work out. I can only take so much S&M until death becomes reality./_

_You are insane, you know that?_

"—and, and he's really aggressive." Takeshi bites his lip, calming himself down. "It was so weird, Niwa. He just came over, said hi, and then _bam!_ I'm being shoved up against the kitchen counter, making out with Satoshi's cousin! It was so random!"

"I didn't even know Satoshi had a cousin…"

I have to kind of pretend I have no idea who Krad is…

Takeshi throws his hands up in the air, moaning, and whines, "I don't know what to do! I can't stop thinking about it! And I feel so guilty, because Satoshi gave me this look—he knows it happened—and I was like, 'aww, don't be like that' in my head and he was like 'whatever' in _his_ head—and I can't think straight anymore. Did you listen to what I just said? I've been speaking in run-ons! NON-STOP RUN-ONS—and fragments."

"Aww…" I smirk. "Satoshi makes you speak improper grammar…"

"That's not funny."

He glares, leaning against the bookshelf and running a hand through his hair.

"It's getting crazy and we're barely two weeks in."

"Is it really that awkward?"

"No, it's not awkward." He blushes, leaning in to confide in me that, "It's actually kind of nice."

_/Ooooh… Emotional development…/_

"You know how it is, Niwa. My afternoons normally consist of just going home to cook and clean, _maybe_ sneak out of the house to do some journalism. I have no life, Niwa."

"At least you don't spend them with your crazy mother."

"Which mother are we talking about because I'm not sure?"

"It doesn't matter."

He shrugs, resting his head on some math books, and scrunches his lips. Everyone tried to warn him, tried to tell him this article was a crazy idea, but _no…_ Takeshi always has to go for the most scandalous topics, probably to make up for the lack of excitement in his life.

"It's different having someone there with me," he says, breaking the silence. "I've never been with anyone before, so Satoshi—even if it's not real—is my first for everything."

"That's a lot of dedication to journalism to sacrifice your first relationship."

"It's not so bad. He's interesting to talk to—did you know he likes his cereal cold? He keeps the box in the refrigerator so that it's cold and crunchy."

"No… No, I didn't know that."

"It's not important, I know, but it's little things like that that I want people to know. I don't want people stalking the poor guy, but… He's more than just a genius."

"Yeah."

"Nobody knows this guy, Niwa. Not even us."

_**Satoshi**_

Thursday, 2:52 PM

We just arrive to his Journalism classroom when Takeshi stops abruptly, turns on his heel, and grips the collar of my shirt to pull me towards him. Surprised, I stumble forward, but catch myself just in time to see him shift his eyes before locking them onto mine. He whispers, "Alright. You have two choices. One, you could sit in the back of the classroom, where everyone will inevitably ignore you, thus avoiding humiliating questions. _Or_, _Two,_ you could sit next to me and fear the wrath of journalistic interrogation, in which case, I will not be able to help you because I've become the social whore of the group with no valid opinion whatsoever—unless concerning editing. I rule in editing."

"Why aren't you an editor?"

"I'm not official, but I will be next year. Only Year 9 students are allowed to be editors."

"Hadae is older than you?"

"Yes."

He adjusts my collar, buttoning it up and swiping any dirt off me, then lets out a final sigh before informing me, "Journalism kids are kind of weird. You're going to witness a _lot_ of passion, a _lot_ of fighting, a _lot _of sexual innuendos—I'm not even joking—and a _lot_ of bullshit. This is my world. I will hold your hand if you get scared."

"Thank you, but I'm sure I will survive."

We enter the classroom.

"Oh my _god,_ you brought your _boyfriend! _That is so adorable!"

A redheaded girl rushes up to Takeshi, clutching his hands and bringing them to their faces, as she giggles profusely. Her seahorse-shaped earrings dangle erratically under her ears as she gossips to Takeshi, "Is this going to be in your article? Oh my gosh, that's so cute! Like, why didn't you tell us? We would have totally cleaned up the place."

Everything is disorganized.

Old newspapers are scattered on a table underneath a tact board filled with flyers ranging from sign-up lists to school advertisements, blank index cards to Post-It notes, stuffed envelopes to photographs. On top of the newspapers rests a coffeemaker with ceramic mugs (they brought their own mugs?), sugars, creamers, straws, and napkins.

"Donuts!" A boy with shagged black hair storms into the classroom, "I brought the donuts! Let's get this party started!"

"Heh…" Takeshi scratches the back of his neck, "It was Gunma's turn to bring the donuts… Don't mind him. Actually, you want one? I'll get you one."

"It's fine."

He hands me his backpack, pointing to a desk with a green chair attached, and says, "Sit over there, the desk by the window. I usually sit there during these meetings."

"Alright."

From the desk, I glance at the other students. Some students are working at their separate computers, typing furiously. Other students are scribbling notes onto their notepads. This one guy, another dyed redhead, is negotiating on his cell phone while looking at a contract.

"I'm _telling_ you, Okinawa-san, if you put an ad in our newspaper, hundreds of students will know about your store—and you sell _ice cream_. What person doesn't like ice cream?" He pauses. "Well, yes, I do realize there might be a lactose intolerant community, but that's a small percentage, I assure you. Exact numbers? Of the lactose intolerant? Oh, of the students in general. Of course."

Takeshi sits on the desk, handing me a donut plus napkin. It's strawberry.

"Who are you observing, Mister Hiwatari?"

"Your advertisement consultant."

"Oh, that's Kinjo-san."

To be more comfortable, Takeshi scoots back further on the desktop and crosses his legs. He looks down to me, and asks, "Can you see?"

"Yeah."

"It'll get started in a few minutes. If you want something to drink, there's coffee and water. Just tell me, okay?"

I nod.

The girl with dark red hair appears again, clutching Takeshi's arm as she gossips, "So, like, it's getting around that your little partner is here. Miyasaki got the word—_totally_ flipping out."

Takeshi smiles.

"What the _hell?_"

Takeshi smiles even wider.

"Nara-san," Takeshi whispers, "I didn't want a scene."

"It's Hiwatari, Saehara. What'd you expect? Bring a celebrity to a bunch of reporters and you practically fed a steak to a pack of starving lions."

She turns to me, waving her hand, "But we'll be easy on you, don't worry."

Thursday, 3:00 PM

"Class,"

"Oh, there's Kanagawa-sensei. Talk to you later, okay?" Nara fake-kisses both of Takeshi's cheeks, and leaves to her desk some four rows down.

In seconds, it's quiet.

"Alright, it's Thursday, so it's our routine Round-Up Meeting. You all know what to do. If problems occur, just know I'm still in the classroom watching your every move."

Kanagawa-sensei then seats himself at his desk, proceeding to his computer duties. A girl with dyed purple hair (somewhat plum-like) takes a stand on an orange chair with a neon pink clipboard in her hands. She tucks a few strands behind her ear before announcing, "Alright. Let's get this over with. I'm going to take attendance. Make a sound—a 'hello', a 'here', a 'present', a growl, a moan, an orgasm, whatever—to let me know you're in the room. Alright."

Eight minutes of being here: First sexual comment.

"That's Hadae-senpai," Takeshi whispers.

"Oh."

As the attendance is held, each student has their own unique way of presenting themselves—some do actually moan with pleasure (sexual points two, three, four, and five.)

"Saehara Takeshi… _and company,_ I see."

"Heh…" He rubs his nose to mask his blushing cheeks and comments, "Yup. We go everywhere together now."

"Creepy."

I believe this is the infamous Miyasaki. I never pictured him as a blonde-with-blue-eyes (or green?) type of guy, but lo and behold, the angelic bastard hits close to home.

_/Contrary to your beliefs, not all of us blondes are pure evil./_

_Other Hair Colors: 2; Blondes: 0_

"Lay off him, Miyasaki," Takeshi spat. "He didn't do anything to you."

"And I'm supposed to take you seriously? You're sitting on top of a desk in front of him, like some secretary whore."

Excuse me? _This_ is how he treats Takeshi?

"Exactly," I join in, "_why_ do you pay so much attention to the way Takeshi sits? Perhaps you should take your eyes off his legs and focus more towards the articles that no one reads."

"_Owned,_" Gunma snaps in Miyasaki's direction.

I look up at Takeshi, who shyly turns away, grinning.

Oh. Forgot.

Sexual comment: Six, by Miyasaki. Seven (and checkmate) by Me.

_**Takeshi**_

"That was amazing."

Thursday, 4:18 PM

Satoshi volunteered to walk me home since it was on the way to the police station and his work shift was today. When he told me that, I asked him if it would be a problem with our schedule—would we have to rain-check some events—but he disagreed, clarifying that because he's _Commander_ of the police agency, he can come into work whenever he's available, just as long as he still has the paperwork filled out.

I have to say: That's pretty badass.

"So, you can do—pretty much—whatever you want, huh?" I ask, unlocking my door when we arrive at my house.

"I have my limitations. Whenever I'm called to be on site of a crime, I have to go. Otherwise, I won't be able to handle the situation appropriately."

"I thought you only handled the Phantom Thief case?"

I open the door, signaling his invite.

"I handle other cases. My position is serious, so I do have my fair share of duties to fulfill. Anyway, I should go."

"You have my number, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

"When should I call you?"

"After your shift, so… around eight is good?"

"Seven would be better."

I nod, kiss his cheek (this is becoming a habit, isn't it?) and wave as he walks down the stepping stairs onto the sidewalk. Closing the door behind me, I drop my backpack and kick my shoes off as I greet my father, "Dad! I'm home!"

Dad steps out of the kitchen, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He asks, "How'd the meeting go?"

"Great! Satoshi came with me, and I thought it was going to be real awkward, but he fit right in." I walk into the kitchen, bending down to the cupboard next to the oven with the pots. "Miyasaki was harassing me again—"

"_Harassing?_ Takeshi, why haven't you told me this?"

"Well, it's not severe or anything," I say, pulling out a saucier pan. "Though, lately, he's been calling me a whore and stuff."

"_What?_"

"Anyways—that's not the point—so, he was calling me names and Satoshi just, like, put him in his _place!_ It was amazing. You should have seen him, Dad. Miyasaki would go 'you're just trying to impress Saehara so you can bang him, fag' and Satoshi was like 'stop imagining us having sex, you pervert.' And _then_, Miyasaki started getting _really _angry and looked like he was about to punch Satoshi in the face—which kind of got me worried because Kanagawa-sensei would have to report that and I don't want Satoshi getting suspended—but then Satoshi stood up and said 'realize I have authority and can _arrest_ you.' It was _so unbelievably BAD. ASS._"

I switch the stove on, putting the left rear at the sixth setting. I turn around to face my father, and notice his staggered expression, mouth slightly open. In an effort to reform my description, I say, "It was a good meeting, though. Hadae said I could extend my column to five hundred words instead of three hundred. She said that since my stats were so high from the first column, that I need to give more details. Two hundred words more! I can be more creative now!"

"That's… great, I guess." Dad presses his fingers against his temple, swirling them. "Isn't this the slightest bit odd to you?"

"Hmm? What is?—Oh, did you like the meal today? You didn't eat Friday's, did you?"

"No."

"Good. I'm just going to cook my dinner then. Tomorrow I'm just going to come home and change. Satoshi and I are going to the Mochi Mochi Bakery for something to eat, then hit the Shinobi Art Museum."

"That might not work out."

"Huh? Why not?"

From his pocket, he slipped out a small white card and answered my question. Dark Mousy was making an appearance tomorrow night. This is definitely going to be a wrench in the gears, but we could manage.

"What time?"

"Eight, sharp."

"Well, we're going straight away. We'll probably be done by seven, so… yeah. I thought we could take a walk after, but we don't have to."

His brows furrow as he crosses his arms. I keep forgetting that Dad isn't too comfortable with this relationship, so I can't be treating it so casually. It's still a surprise he's allowing me to go through with this.

"Your mother called," he states, switching the subject. "The appointment is at four, and we should be out by seven-thirty."

"Alright."

"Did you tell her about Hiwatari?"

"_No—_you crazy? She'll flip out." I roll my eyes. "And we both know we can't handle her anxiety attacks."

Dad chuckles, adding, "Actually, she might not mind."

"What? Why?"

"She's a bit odd, Takeshi. Takes stress and makes a party. If anything, she'd schedule all sorts of shopping trips for you two so that she can have the Sex Talk."

"No…"

"Yes. So, we need to avoid this come Friday. For the sake of both of our sanities—because if she finds out you're gay—"

"But I'm not—"

"If she even _suspects_ you're gay, that means more therapy."

We make eye contact. A pact was made: Don't. Tell. Mom.

_**Satoshi**_

_/It's almost seven o'clock./_

_I know._

_/Shouldn't you be dialing the number now?/_

_It would be weird if I called at exactly seven o'clock._

_/Why?/_

_It would mean I was anticipating calling him._

_/Are you not? You've been sitting next to the phone for ten minutes now./_

_I have not._

_/It's 7:01./_

_It's too soon._

_/This is ridiculous. Just call the boy. What difference does it make if you seem punctual or not?/_

_It's human perception. If I call on time, I'm perceived as a person who's been thinking about the conversation for a good while./_

_/It's 7:02./_

_Stop doing that. I will call in a few minutes._

Thursday, 7:07 PM

"_Hello?"_

"It's me."

"_Oh! Hi, Satoshi."_

"I called."

"_Yes, I realize that."_

I fiddle with the cord of the phone, letting the pause in our conversation linger. Despite good judgment, I didn't come prepared for the phone call, having no conversational topics at hand whatsoever. Thus, the two of us sit on both ends of the line, listening to eerie hum of electricity connecting us.

"_Um, so… what's up?"_

"Nothing," I say, accidentally too curt for a response.

"_Oh. Okay. Well… Right."_

"Right."

"…_Did you even try to come up with a conversation?"_

"I'm not sure what to talk about."

He sighs. Takeshi should have expected this, especially from me of all people to be in a phone conversation with. _He_ starts the conversation; I just begrudgingly participate.

"_Alright, fine. Well, Dad told me Dark is going to appear tomorrow night."_

"Yes, I got the report this afternoon."

"_So, tomorrow, I guess we'll have to hurry the museum."_

"Indeed."

A short breath of relief escapes him before he utters, _"Oh, good. I thought you were going to cancel."_

"Our date is early enough."

"_Yeah. Thanks. I'll make note of that: your willingness to be flexible."_

"We both have careers in need of that."

"_I only understand because I'm busy too, but other girls might complain about you always working."_

"I don't understand your firm belief in my love life booming after this entire ordeal."

"_It is just so obvious. Now that girls know a little bit more about you, they're going to try even harder to win your heart—and they'll know how to too."_

"—which inevitably forces me to be skeptical of their intentions. If girls know how to win me over because they followed a set of rules _you_ provided, then what makes me believe I'm falling for _them_ and not…"

I don't finish the sentence. I'm not sure where I'm going with it.

_/Perhaps you should mention those lovely dreams of yours./_

_I will definitely not. _

"_Oh, come on, Satoshi. It won't be like that. This is just a guide so that they can get close to you—to get to __**know**__ you."_

Thankful he didn't notice my slip, I continue with the tangent of ours and say, "Regardless, I will most likely revert back to my bachelorhood."

"_Oooh… I see. Mister Hiwatari doesn't like commitment, huh? Can't have that now."_

"I've yet to meet someone worthy of my time."

"_Or, in my case, with a decent bribe. By the way, did you think of anything yet?"_

"No, not yet."

"_Watch you not be able to think of something you want and get the short of the stick." _He laughs. _"I'd feel so guilty."_

Thursday, 8:32 PM

We are still on the phone together, talking about nonsense. In the past hour and a half, I have managed to engage in a conversation about little facts about myself, which led to the "Did you know…" tangent, which led to the—oddly enough—incredibly intense discussion on the French Revolution, where Takeshi revealed a vast knowledge of history I never knew about. This then transformed into a conversation about philosophy, which turned into religion, which easily turned into a discussion about zombies, leading to the tangent of cow brains, odd delicacies, _Foods to Die For,_ tomorrow's possible breakfast, croissants, Mochi Mochi Bakery, the small pleasure Takeshi gets out of saying "mochi mochi" because it sounds like "moshi moshi," and now:

"_Moshi moshi, Yoshi Yoshi!"_

"I don't understand you at all."

"_Oh come one, like you don't have fun saying that. Say it. Say it and feel the fuzzy sensation inside."_

"No. I don't get pleasure out of saying words."

"_Just say it!"_

I sigh, giving in, "Moshi moshi, Yoshi Yoshi."

It's weird.

"_And…?"_

"No fuzzy sensation."

"_That's because you didn't say it right."_

"You're making me lose brain cells."

"_You have enough of those."_

"Brain cells, no matter how much in abundance, are too valuable to lose."

"_Not as valuable as the vital organs."_

"Brain cells are _from_ a vital organ."

"_Speaking of organs, what time is it?"_

"It's 8:39 PM."

"_Wow, we've been talking for awhile."_

"Indeed."

At some point, I settled myself in my bed, burying my head in the comfort of my pillows while lazily sprawled over the wrinkled sheets. The cord of the telephone ran over my stomach since I sat opposite of the night table, where the phone was. My left arm, permanently in a bent position, had not abandoned my ear's side once nor did it attempt to let my right hand endure some torture. It was dedicated for whatever reason why.

"_There's a pickle jar under my bed. That's awkward."_

"Why are you looking under your bed?"

"_I'm lying on the floor—well, half of me is. My legs are still on the bed. I look like I'm sitting sideways, defying gravity because I'm cool like that. What about you?"_

"On the bed, cord over me."

"_You have a cord phone? So old fashioned!" _A pause. _"Do you ever get tangled in it? I could totally see that happening."_

"Normally, I don't, but it has happened, yes."

"_Heh… That'd be funny to see."_

"You would enjoy the sight, as you normally enjoy my mishaps."

"_Oh, Mister Hiwatari, it's only because you're so __**cute**__ when you're flustered!"_

"All too comfortable with calling me cute?"

"_Only when you're flustered, punk."_

I scoff, "You flirt too much."

"_Hey, you do too."_

"You're the only person I flirt with."

There is a moment of silence as we both digest that. I can only imagine what his reaction is, blushing profusely at the sentence, sitting up while clutching the phone tighter to his ear, and clutching his neck insecurely. Or, perhaps he hasn't moved, too frozen—like me—and just barely conscious enough to grasp the phone in his heads. Either way, neither of us says anything, letting the bastard of a moment grow.

The sentence came out wrong. I _meant_ that because he flirts so much—particularly with me considering we are in a "relationship"—that as a response, I am just as coy. He can't be winning every battle of the wits, or flirts? I just hope he understood that.

He makes a sound, stifled laughter.

"_Mister Hiwatari, you should be more careful with your words."_

He understood.

"I was afraid of your reaction."

"_Mm-hmm. Don't worry, I know what you meant. Anyway, I should probably go."_

"Yes. It's getting a bit late."

"_I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"_

"Tomorrow."

"_Goodnight, Satoshi."_

"Goodnight, Takeshi."

I hand up the phone just after he does and release the object out of my hand, slowly unfolding my arm into a straight position. Awkwardly resting on the mattress, my left arm tingles in its numb state, worthless to me now that I no longer need to hold the phone.

_/What to do now, Satoshi-sama?/_

_I don't know. I could just lie here. Doing nothing._

_/It seems our puppy is your only form of entertainment. You're bored without him./_

_I'm not bored._

_/When he isn't around, you get bored quite fast, my love. You haven't finished one novel since this relationship started./_

_I have no time to read._

_/And now?/_

…_I don't feel like reading._

_/I rest my case./_

_**Daisuke**_

We're in our art course and our assignment for now and next week is to paint in an impressionistic style, be it a portrait or a landscape. I keep looking over at Satoshi, who is leaning against his stool, staring at his blank canvas. For the majority of the class, he had been contemplating what to paint for his assignment, falling behind the rest of the class because of this.

"Is there something wrong, Hiwatari-san?" Nakamura-sensei asks, approaching behind Satoshi. "You haven't begun your painting. Do you need help with coming up with a concentration?"

"I have an image of a person, but I'm not sure if it is appropriate."

"A particular person?"

"I'm not sure," he shrugs. "It's a portrait of someone."

"Well, paint it. There are no limitations—as long as it isn't obscene. Tasteful art."

She left, and with that, Satoshi dabbed his brush into some cream oil paint.

_**Takeshi**_

Friday, 3:38 PM

It's funny.

"I'll have…"

Satoshi and I rushed to change into a new pair of clothes and meet each other here at the bakery/restaurant. Rushed so much that even as we arrived, the both of us were fixing the collars of our shirts, messing with our hair to make it look appropriate, and (in my case) adjusting my belt. When we saw each other, sitting ourselves in an outside table so we could leave faster, we both complimented each other with, "You look nice."

"And you, sir?"

I order my food, some crab and octopus rolls with an avocado side, and focus my attention to Satoshi.

"So, what time do you have to be there?"

"Seven-thirty, the latest."

"Can I come?"

He glares at me, nodding in disagreement, and orders, "No. You go home. You don't get special treatment just because we're together."

"Aww… but it's the Phantom Thief Dark! I _always_ write his articles."

"And you can continue doing so that same way you did it before: at a distance."

"Fine… but don't pretend as if you never give me special treatment." I lean in, resting my elbows on the table. "I remember the JPD party…"

"I would hope so. It was only a week ago." He fiddles with a fork. "And either I focused my attention on you or witness you get taken advantage of."

"Kinky."

"Shut up."

"Your food, gentlemen."

Friday, 4:19 PM

We ate fast so we could enjoy the museum better, which I paid for admission. I told him we had to start thinking of ways of showing each other affection, assuming he would be affectionate in his relationships. And while observing a painting of a small girl dipping her toes in a lake, he comes up with a suggestion and comments, "We walk at a distance."

I link my arm with his, and nod.

"This should do for now. Nothing too racy."

We stroll down the hallway, looking at the art pieces, the current theme of this particular exhibit being children in nature. Normally in the Shinobi Art Museum, about five or so exhibits are held at the same time, providing a range of tastes for every viewer here in Azumano. It's a nice place to walk in, plenty of things to see.

"So, tell me how you are." I scoot closer to Satoshi, so that we wouldn't be loud.

"I'm fine."

"Anything new in school today?"  
He thinks before answering, "I'm starting a new painting in art."

"Really? What are you painting?"

"A person for now, but I don't know who."

I laugh and joke, "You should paint me."

"Now, why would I do that?"

"Because I'm _gorgeous_, Mister Hiwatari."

"That's not a valid reason."

I gasp, unhanding him, and point out, "_You_ didn't deny that I'm gorgeous."

"Excuse me for not wanting to offend you."

"Oh, don't try to escape this now."

I stand in front of him, blocking his path, and poke his chest. In retaliation, he grabs my arms just under my shoulders to set me aside, but I clutch his shirt. We near each other; myself being confrontational and himself being avoidant. And I tantalize him, fingering my way up to his neck, and murmur, "You think I'm attractive."

He retaliates, "I imagine there must be a reason men chase after you."

"No, no." I shake my head, not satisfied with his denial. "I want to know if Mister Hiwatari is attracted to the damsel he's always saving—because that's what I've become, you know."

Satoshi sighs.

"In some ways, yes."

"What do you find attractive in me?"

Now I'm just being mean.

"I'm not discussing this."

Satoshi tries to pull away, but I clutch him closer, just barely giving him any personal space. His hands reposition themselves onto my hips, which he attempts to sway to the side, but fails when I press even closer to him.

"Tell me," I whisper.

"What purpose would it be? You can't write in your column because it only pertains to you."

"I still want to know… mainly because it _does_ only pertain to me."

"This is unnecessary."

"Hmm," I bite my lip. "If I told you something I'm attracted by, would you tell me one too?"

"No. It has—"

"—because if it makes any difference, I think your cheekbones are handsome."

I stroke his cheeks, outlining his high cheekbones, and continue, "They really define your face, and they make you look strong. I think it's because you're eating more, so you look healthier."

He sighs.

"I like your lips, your smile."

Naturally, I smile.

"Your lips are full," he adds, "and warm."

Brushing my lips against his, I shyly admit, "I liked the way you kissed me on Wednesday."

"That was nice, yes."

I press my lips against his, feeling the quickened pace of his breathing on my upper lip, and linger there. His hand slips upward to the small of my back, scrunching my shirt while doing so, and his grip on my hip tightens as he deepens the kiss. It is hesitant at first; we're both unsure of how to approach this. I just lean in, closing my eyes, trying not to think too much about it—but it's so hard when all I'm focusing on is the warmth of his touch around me, and how nice—how comforting it feels.

My thumbs just faintly stroke his cheeks, my hands cupping his face. He licks my lips, moistening the kiss, and tilts his head just barely enough to signal an invite to an open kiss. My shoulders curve inwards. My hands slip down his neck. I don't know what I'm doing, but I timidly part my lips and I take in the hot breaths he blows. My cheeks are burning; my hands are trembling. But his kiss just feels so good.

"You're…" I whisper in between parts and breaths, "a good kisser."

"You're very shy," he responds, pulling me closer. "It's unexpected."

"I've never kissed anyone before."

I nip his bottom lip, grazing my tongue against it.

"_Ahem,_"

Taken off guard, we part immediately turn away from each other only to face an elderly man with his wife, I suppose, and some children. His arms were crossed as he scowled, "Some of us would _like_ to look at the artwork, thank you very much."

I looked to my right, realizing we were blocking a painting of three boys in a forest. And it dawned on me: I had been making out with Satoshi in public. Wait. WAIT.

OH MY GOD.

WE'RE IN PUBLIC.

"I am _so_ sorry, sir!" I gasp, taking Satoshi's hand and hurriedly walking away from everyone—because they weren't the only ones witnessing two apparently raging-hormones teenaged boys—and searching for the exit of the museum.

What the hell came over me? How could I just _do_ that?

"This is so embarrassing!"

"Only a few people saw—"

"We were blocking a painting!"

I plopped myself on a bench in a 3D exhibit, burying my face in my hands to hide my shame. Satoshi sat next to me, and he awkwardly pats my back. In hopes of comforting me, I guess.

"No one important saw us."

"It shouldn't have happened," I say, taking my hands away and facing him. "We don't like each other… not like that."

"We're stressed," he explains. "Your grade depends on us being a good read, I have to deal with my work—plus, Dark is coming tomorrow. We're just stressed, and we're the closest form of a release to each other."

"So… this is okay?"

"It has its logical reasoning behind it."

In other words, there was an excuse we fall back on.

"Don't think too much about it," Satoshi advises, though I'm not too sure if he was directing it towards me. His voice had the impression that he was speaking to himself.

"Let's finish our date—have it end on a good note."

"Yeah."

_**Dark**_

_Try not to tease him about Saehara._

_/Makes me want to do it even more./_

_Yeah, but seriously, don't. Apparently Krad likes Saehara, and we don't want Krad angry._

_/Krad always gets angry at us./_

_Yeah, but it's usually not our fault._

_/In his eyes, it's our fault for existing./_

_Just don't mention Saehara!_

"Hello there, Commander."

Creepy Boy Wonder clenched his fists, pathetically trying to look tough. Tonight's goal was to grab _La Belle Marcie_, a painting of some woman with blonde hair, and leave. Of course, not before I have a little fun.

"How's your boyfriend?"

_Oh my god! You are so difficult! _

_/I had to. I want the updates, the scoop! The gossip!/_

_You're such a girl._

_/Says the boy who watches after school soap operas with his mother./_

_I don't have a choice in that!_

Satoshi growls, yanking his hair—the poor soul is embarrassed that I know all about his scandalous affairs. That's what he gets for letting his kinky laundry hand out in the open for paparazzi perverts… Where is this metaphor going?

"Leave Takeshi out of this."

"How sweet," I scoff. "You refer to him in first name even when he's not around? And here I thought that was for show."

"What do you care about my personal affairs?"

"Well, they're juicy, Commander. You're such a dull person, but _now with Takeshi!_—Oh, may I call him that? Saehara is just too formal and I'm not into that type of thing—"

He dodges at me, gripping onto the painting in my hands. Surprised, my hands fumble before retaliating, and we struggle with one another in hopes of winning the painting. In a strained tone, I taunt, "Changing the topic, huh? Afraid your emotions will get too strong?"

"Takeshi doesn't need to get involved in this."

"Oh? And what about…"

_Don't mention Krad. Don't you dare mention Krad!_

"…my blonde half, hmm?"

_Sometimes I hate you so much._

_/I love you too, Dai./_

_Really, really much._

"How… How did—oh, god_damn it._"

He still had a hold on the painting. And with Daisuke screaming in my ear to 'just grab it and go', I need to go to desperate measures. So, I say, "Yeah, he told Daisuke. He was all giddy about it, saying how much he liked their little make-out."

Satoshi lets go of the painting, shocked.

"He… did?"

"Yeah," I pull the painting back. "Thinks Krad one sexy beast. I don't know what Krad did—that psycho—but it sure got him hooked."

_You're creating unnecessary drama!_

_/Makes a better story, Dai. Gosh, what the hell do they teach you in literature?/_

He glares and asks, "How do I know you're not trying to fool me?"

"Well, Commander… Why would I know this would bother you?"

In an opportunity to witness his worried eyes as my final glimpse of the bluenette, I leap out of the window, leaving him to ponder his newfound emotions.

_You are evil._

_/Only sometimes./_

_**Satoshi**_

Sunday, 12:06 PM

"_Huh? Oh," _I'm on the phone with Takeshi. _"Yeah, I'll meet you there in a few minutes. I just need to type a few… things… down."_

"If you want to continue writing, you can. I'll just get back to work."

"_No! I'm just finishing my article on the Phantom Thief, that's all."_

"Oh."

"_Didn't have any luck catching him this time?"_

"Not quite."

"_Why don't you let other people in the building to help you find him? Instead of just guarding outside?"_

"I'll consider that next time."

"_Okay. One more word… Got it! Alright. I'm sending the article now. I'll be over in, like, fifteen minutes, okay? But we can't be too long. I have to write our column by midnight."_

"Alright. I'll see you in a few then."

"_See you!"_

I hang up the phone.

The past two nights have been rough on me. Yet again, _Take-kun_ invaded my dreams with his enigmatic behaviors, and I have no idea how to handle them. I can only thank that Thursday had no Take-kun and yesterday evening was fairly tame: just a soft kiss under a tree, whatever that means. However, Friday's dream was…

"_Eeeek!" _

_I looked up, taking my glasses off. Eying the room, I saw no one, despite recognizing Take-kun's voice. I was working on some case files late into the evening, so I didn't want any distractions. I needed to figure out who murdered the strawberry girl at the Eiffel Tower located in Tokyo. (Somehow this didn't trigger a sign.)_

"_Oh, Satoshi!"_

_Take-kun rushed out into the living room, wearing only a button-down shirt with only three buttons actually buttoned, and stood insecurely with knees bent. His hair was shagged, as if he __**were**__ just "shagged," and his cheeks flushed. He panted and huskily asked, "When are you coming back to the bedroom?"_

_My eyes widened._

"_Why are you dressed like that?"_

_He sauntered towards me with his head tilted to the side, baring his fanged smile. Seductively, he licked his teeth slowly, and brought it to a finish with a desirable bite of his lip. I couldn't help but let my eyes wander, tracing his waist to his thighs and watching his legs part as he took a place in my lap. _

"_You're the one who undressed me," he cooed. _

_I gulped._

"_Don't you remember?"_

_I nodded no._

"_Let me remind you then."_

"_What are you doing?" I had to regain some control in this. "You're not this… promiscuous. You're too shy to be this way."_

"_No, Takeshi is. I __**love**__ your touch." He kissed me and mewled, "I'd do anything for your touch."_

"_No…"_

"_**Fuck**__ Krad." He kissed me again. "You're the only man I need."_

A hand taps my shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"Hello, Mister Hiwatari," Takeshi greets. "Daydreaming, are we?"

"Sorry."

"So, how are you?"

He takes a seat next to me on the bench, hooking our arms together and resting his head on my right shoulder. I slouch to get into a comfortable position with him and reply, "Fine. You?"

"I'm good. It was weird not seeing you yesterday. We've been hanging out every day now, so it felt like something—or, well, some_one_ was missing."

"It was different."

"Did you get your paperwork done yesterday, though?"  
"Yes. Quite a bit."

"That's good."

"What did you do yesterday?" I ask absentmindedly, partly curious, partly not.

"Not much. I went grocery shopping with Niwa."

"Aren't we supposed to go grocery shopping today?"

"Oh! You want to?"

He perks up, looking around him and says, "Actually, I think there's a food market just down the street. Do you have money on you?"

"Enough to buy food."

"Alright, let's go get some food for you then."

"You are too easily excited by the simplest of things." I shake my head. "I don't understand how you could take pleasure in buying me food."

"Well, someone has to take care of you."

He smiles, taking my hand and pulling us both off the bench.

**linebreakerparentsaregettingreadyforworkandjusttoldmegoodnightbecauseigotosleepateightinthemorninginthesummeriamsuchaninsomniacitssobadbutyouguysdontcareaslongasiprovideyoumanporn**

**Schizo: **So I ended it. It's kind of a half-ass ending, but damn it, I like it half-assed. I won't go further into describing the grocery trip. Don't ask. I won't. Why? Well, there's another grocery trip, so I'm saving the goods for then. For now, just imagine crazy adventures, maybe another random make-out, and fruit puns. I always make fruit puns.

Review Columnist Thingy (returns because you guys have a chance to actually remember what you wrote to me!):

**Doreiku: **Would you mind settling for Tosh telling off Miyasaki? :D And yay! I'm glad you noticed the subtly of Satoshi's self-hatred at the end of the chapter.

**Shadow Vampiress: **I'm glad I make your day with my updates! (even if that means so good that you stalked me on the internet a little... XD haha, I kid.) Yeah, mistakes are everywhere for me. I'm too excited to post to edit, so I try to do it as I'm writing. Thing is, I'm barely awake when those attempts are made.

**grawrgrawrninja: **Yay! I have converted yet another to the TakeshixSatoshi fandom... that I created! Please enjoy the ride.

**Shira the flufffy llama: **Aww, your review is so sweet. And yes, I know about Failures in Life. I lost the file in my transfer of my old laptop to my new laptop, so I just plain don't have it anymore. If you still have the file, perhaps you could send it to me and I might continue it? It won't be for awhile, perhaps, because I'm trying to finish one story at a time to keep my head straight. But I will try!

**Azalee: **Thank you! Yeah, I actually don't mind OCs, but I think people need to realize they're for helping a plot, not taking it over... Sorry for the Krad molestation, lol. I actually just find the idea amusing.

**Pynche-too lazy to log in...: **lol, constipated Satoshi... Err... I think, in my timeline of a head, Satoshi was in the bathroom for 15-20 minutes? It's not so bad, but Takeshi was panicking. And thank you for thinking I am awesome. You are awesome too.

**Kaguranne: **Really? Maybe when I go up to Boston, sometime in the school year, we can meet up or something. I don't know. And yeah, I'm happy to be writing fanfics again. :D Makes me a happy lady.

**KradsLover: **Oh, don't be worried about your senior year. I was stressed in my senior year because of college (which would be in vain because I got accepted everywhere I applied to... -foolish-). The actual year is actually quite nice, you'll enjoy it thoroughly! And Krad will have his homicidal tendencies, just not too often towards Takeshi. He's gotta woo the boy, lol.

**inu-youkai911: **Thank you! Yes, yay for being 18! I can do so much more things now!

**smiley95: **Goodness, you are one excited girl. O.o Thank you for the reviews though! :D I hope the kissing in this chapter satisfies your perverted self for now!

**KireiRakuen: **Woo! Yay for friends at Emerson! Yes, Krad will make his return and it will be juicy! :D

**KupoWrath: **Oh, it doesn't matter if you read this before or not as long as you're reading it now! And stop dying! D: Takeshi would be the kinkiest sex partner ever, not even joking.

Review please.

Cheers -Steph


	7. Potentially sex Potentially vampires

**Schizo: **Yeeeeeeah, so I'm going to pretend I didn't take 2 years, 15 days, and some hours to update this story. I went off to college and time sort of gets warped in that world, sort of like Narnia, I suppose, so accept it. But hey, here I am!

I'll keep this short. I'm sorry. I'm a horrible person. When will I update next? I don't know! Hopefully soon, but I make no promises. Because I suck.

GOOD NEWS... for the perverts... This story is now an **M!** Well, I mean, not right now. It's gonna get crazy limey in this chapter, but I am mainly making the switch for future chapters and my liberal usage of the word "fuck" in this chapter. I mean, then there's the possibility that the lime scene here might be _too_ racey for T-folks to leave the rating alone, so I'm just going to take the safe route.

This also means: Forget their ages. If you go back to read the other chapters because you completely forgot this story, chances are you will read that these kids are fourteen. Well, that is just a liiiiittle uncomfortable for me, so we're just going to casually ignore it. If you want them to still be that age, well, that's your business. If you don't, then, uh, don't imagine 'em that way. Basically, let your fantasy age dominate! It's all about comfort here.

I am also pissed that **all** of my linebreakers are gone. Those were my babies.

I don't own D N Angel, but I sure do update like the original author.

I'm also running on no sleep. TWO MONTHS IT TOOK TO WRITE THIS.

I wonder if people will still read this?

* * *

_**Takeshi**_

"I don't understand," Satoshi rushes to his kitchen counter and drops the grocery bags, "why we had to buy so much food."

Sunday, 5:21 PM

"Because you don't have any," I answer, casually setting three bags on his stovetop. Years of grocery shopping by myself has trained me well. "And it wouldn't have been so bad if you didn't get us lost."

"I _didn't_ get us lost."

When we were shopping, I realized that only fruit and vegetables were sold in this particular outside market, so we had to go to the Azumano Fish and Meat Co., which would have probably been a fifteen minute trip had we taken the metro, but Satoshi insisted he recalled a meat market near his house. He passed it _so many_ times, he said.

"Face it," I say, pulling out celery and carrots. "You forgot where it was."

"I don't forget things."

"It's fine. It's not like we killed that much time—" I look at the microwave clock. "_Oh my god, it's five-thirty._"

This is when a part of me dies a little inside.

Wait. Let's rationalize this first.

It's five-thirty. My deadline is due by midnight. I haven't even _begun_ to plan out my article for this week's issue, let alone the fact that I haven't even typed down my notes yet. How far is Satoshi's house from mine? Forty-five minutes? Maybe? I can't remember—it's far, I know that. So, if I leave now, then I'll be home around, uh… math, math, math—what's five-thirty plus forty-five minutes? Okay, half hour makes six o'clock—plus fifteen minutes makes _six-fifteen? _I won't even have six hours to do my article! I'll have to type and plan out my article in an hour, giving me five hours to work with. Five hundred words max. One hundred words per paragraph. Paragraph per hour. And then I'll—_SHIT_, but I have to proofread!—and rearrange shit!—and rewrite—and redraft—AND OH MY GOD—

"Takeshi?" Satoshi grabs the jar of pickled peppers out of my hands, and shakes my shoulder a little. "What's wrong?"

My eyes dart at him.

"_You_," I growl. "This is _your_ fault!"

"Excuse me?"

I can't do this. What if the metro breaks down on the way to my house? Then I'll be trapped there! And the last time the metro broke down, I was there for two hours next to some strange guy with a briefcase and he kept looking at me and I was worried because he could have killed me or something—or rape me, now that I think about it—and oh my god, I can't handle this. I can't risk that, but if I walk there,_ I'll never make it._ Holy shit, _I'm_ _doomed_.Hadae is going to kill me, but maybe I… but maybe I could borrow some paper from Satoshi! Yes! That way, if the metro breaks down, I can work on my article!

Yes. I will draft and write my article on the train. And avoid creepy men.

"Can I borrow some paper, Satoshi?"

"Huh—what? What are you _talking_ about, Takeshi?" His expression furrows as he continues to unpack all of the groceries. "You're not making any sense."

"My _article._ I have less than six hours to write my article and I need paper so that if the train breaks down I can still write it."

I gasp. But what if the train breaks down _completely_ and they'll tell us to get off? I don't have cash for a cab and it'll be too far away to walk. I won't make it. I won't make it. I can't move. I can't write my article. I'm stuck here. I'm stuck _here._

I need Satoshi's computer.

"What?"

"I need your computer."

"I thought you said pap—"

"I know what I said, Satoshi!" I walk out of his kitchen, making my way to his computer desk. "Goddamn it, I need your computer."

But he grabs my wrist from behind and says, "I need to do my work as well, you know."

"You don't understand." My voice is shaking. "I have a deadline and I don't have time and—" I scrunch my hair, "Oh my god, why did we take so long? We shouldn't have gone grocery shopping—I knew we shouldn't—but you needed food and you were waiting at the park for me, so I felt guilty—and I thought, _well_, I don't know, an hour or two and we're done—_not five hours_—_!_"

I'm hyperventilating.

"_Takeshi,_" Satoshi clutches my shoulders, pulling me out of my frazzled brain, and attempts to calm me down with, "panicking won't make the article come any faster."

I glare at him.

"I _know_. That's why I need your computer _now._"

"You're making the situation worse than it needs to be, Takeshi. I'm sure you'll finish just in time."

"Please." I grab my elbows, not sure of what to do. "I _need_ it."

_**Satoshi**_

_/For goodness sake, just give him your spare laptop./_

_He's just panicking. If he goes home now, he'll have enough time to write his article._

_/Not according to him. Look at him. The poor pup is about to sob profusely./_

"I don't want to sound overdramatic, but," he says. Takeshi squeezes his elbows tighter, "I get really meticulous."

"Excuse me?"

"My writing—I get…" He scratches his elbows and shakes his head, staring at the ground. "It's different than the other articles. Normally I just have to state the facts and I'm done in an hour or something, but…" He scratches harder. "I can't do that with these columns."

"Why not?" Folding the rest of the grocery bags into a stack, I set them under my kitchen sink next to the garbage bin. "Just write what we've done over the week."

"That's the thing—we've done a lot. I can only write five hundred words, so I have to think about the important stuff and then think about you and what I've learned and _then_ tell a story and—_shit, ow._"

A small cut from Takeshi's incessant scratching spawns a bead of blood, forcing him to stop and stare at his elbow. By now the anxiety has gotten to him as he _uhs_ in between breathing, probably filling even more doomsday thoughts into his brain, and he begins to mutter to himself, _this is stupid; I'm so stupid,_ while heading for the door. But in this state, there's no way I'm letting him attempt to go near a train—lest he panic and have an accident or something, knowing his melodramatic condition when it comes to his journalism class. In all seriousness, perhaps journalism isn't healthy for him.

"Look at what this is doing to you," I say, grabbing his shoulders before he reaches the door and turning him around. "This isn't healthy, Takeshi. An article deadline shouldn't have you get this worried."

"You don't understand," he mutters, slouching. "Never mind. I have to get home."

He sighs deeply and nods, attempting to get from under my grab, but I grip onto his shoulders tighter. Takeshi growls, "Satoshi, if you're not going to help me, let me go _home._ I've already wasted too much time."

"Listen, I have an extra laptop and you can use it—" His eyes beam, but I sternly add, "—_only_ if you stop getting overwhelmed like this about your journalism class. This is getting ridiculous."

Takeshi chuckles.

"I can't promise that, Satoshi. I'm a _writer,_" he simpers. "My entire life is split up between procrastination and deadline anxiety."

"Yes, well, at the very least, stop panicking."

As I start heading to my bedroom to get the extra laptop, Takeshi simply murmurs, "Thank you, Satoshi."

Sunday, 7:13 PM

I almost wonder where Takeshi writes at home. In the past hour and a half, he's managed to get frustrated with the entirety of my living room and kitchen, occasionally shouting _I can't work like this!,_ and transferring his body to a new spot. Frankly, his entire writing process is just bizarre.

Today was the day I learned that Takeshi constantly carries a headband with him at all times in the chance that he comes up with an idea or isn't at home to write (such as right now). He uses it to hold his bangs away from his eyes so they won't distract him as he writes, but this obviously creates a fluffy halo, which wouldn't be nearly as comical if his headband wasn't polka-dotted patterned.

"I know you're judging me," he says, glaring at me as he types. Takeshi doesn't even look down at the keyboard—completely concentrated on both typing and talking with me—and retorts, "Go back to work and stop _staring_ at me."

"I'm just fascinated, is all."

"Yeah, well," Takeshi shakes me off, turning his attention back to the computer screen, "_stop._ It's annoying."

Apparently Takeshi is a bit snappy when he's writing.

_/He's normally so peppy./_

_This is his work. I would get annoyed if someone was observing me while I worked._

_/Yet you keep watching him./_

_Out of curiosity._

_/Hmm? For what?/_

_I've never actually seen Takeshi write before. It was more of a concept that I understood. Takeshi says he writes. His articles get published and he apparently has some other works. But the two never actually connected to me. This is the first time I can see how he works._

_/You really are fascinated by him, aren't you, my love?/_

_Not in the way you're referring to—_

"_Satoshi, _I swear to _God,_ if you fucking keep _staring _at me," Takeshi stands up from the dining table, hands firmly gripping on its edge, "I will _punch_ you in the _face_."

Yet the polka-dotted headband tufting his bangs provides an unfortunate contrast to this threat, making me nod indifferently. He rolls his eyes, picking up my laptop, and heads for my bedroom, growling, "I'm taking your room. Don't bother me."

Protesting, I tell him, "You can't take my—"

"I'm _taking_ your room." He opens the door. "Okay?"

"Why not the couch?"

"Because that thing's a rock and I can't focus while my spine is shattering." Takeshi walks inside, setting the laptop down for a moment and returns to the doorway and assures me, "I'll just be typing on your bed. Promise."

Reluctantly, I give in, "Only because you're in an emergency." Then add, "But if I catch you doing anything else—"

"I won't," he says. "I have no time."

And with that, he slams the door behind him.

_/I imagine when you continue a relationship with him in the future, you'd best stay away from the puppy when he's working. The boy looks like he'd murder a man should someone interrupt him./_

_You say this as if we have a future._

_/Let's not have this discussion. We both know the truth./_

Sunday, 8:08 PM

_/You are brave, Satoshi-sama./_

Like a knight standing before the dragon's cave, I stare at my bedroom door, wondering if I should ask Takeshi if wants something to eat. Because of him, over the past two weeks, my stomach has conditioned itself to have dinner. But who knows what will happen if I open this door, let alone ask him a question. Still, it's been hours since the both of us had lunch, and if _I'm_ hungry, I can only imagine what Takeshi is going through.

So I open the door and brace myself.

Slowly peering inside, I'm faced with Takeshi hunched over my laptop, mid-type and eyes averted to signal his attention, but I make the mistake of not speaking immediately, so he snaps, "What?"

Well, it could have been worse.

"Are you hungry?"

"I don't have time to eat," he says and turns his attention back to the computer screen, annoyed. He cracks his knuckles, rolls his neck, and continues typing, tiredly. He's hungry all right, but his priorities lie elsewhere.

"I was just going to go get some take-out; nothing big. Do you want anything?"

"No."

"Takeshi, come on, you haven't eaten since noon."

"I don't have time for this, Satoshi." He shooshes me away with his hand. "Thanks, but no. I just need to be left alone."

Sighing, I close the door.

_/What are you going to do?/_

_I'm going to Tori-komachi._

_/Didn't you two go there on your first date?/_

_Yes. I remember Takeshi mentioning he goes there every Sunday, so I figure if I mention his name, I can get his usual order and be fine. It's not too far._

_/The things you do for him, and yet you refuse to admit your feelings./_

_Krad, this is getting tiring. _

Sunday, 8:51 PM

I honestly don't know why Takeshi was worried about my house being too far from his, considering I managed to go to Tori-komachi—which is farther than his house—_and_ make a side-trip to his house to get his uniform and backpack in the time span of forty-five minutes. Although, I suppose if it weren't for me spotting his house keys next to mine when I was leaving the apartment, getting into his house might have been more difficult.

_/Why exactly did you get his uniform?/_

_He'll be writing into the night. The trains close at one, sometimes midnight. And besides, he'll be exhausted and I don't want to find out he passed out while walking home. This is easier._

_/Of course. Certainly. That's obviously why./_

I enter my bedroom, setting Takeshi's stuff down onto the ground while balancing the take-out cardboard box on my left hand. I hear Takeshi make a soft _aww_, noticing the guilt lingering in the air, and look up at him. This time his back is pressed against the headboard, his legs spread out before him and the laptop where it was intended to be. He smiles softly.

"I brought you food."

"You… You really didn't have to," he says. Not an ounce of bitterness attached. "I'm sorry."

I walk over to my bed and set the take-out box in the center of the mattress. Takeshi sets the laptop aside after saving his work and begins opening some of the containers as I sit down next to him on the bed. Within seconds, he realizes what I ordered and excitedly turns to me, chirping, "Tori-komachi? How'd you know my order?"

"I mentioned your name. They took it from there."

"You're sweet," he says, looking down at a container of yakitori. He crosses his legs and insecurely slouches. "I'm sorry, really. I was acting like a dick."

Grabbing some chopsticks and a take-out container, I shrug it off.

"I get really intense when I write."

"I know."

"Sorry." He leans over to me and kisses me softly, but briefly, before resuming to his meal. "I'll make up for it."

And we sit there, eating dinner on my mattress, listening to cars' engines hum as they wait at the streetlight before driving off. Takeshi scoots closer to me, scooping some of my Udon noodles into his mouth with his chopsticks. He chews as he slurps; noodles bounce against his jaw and smear broth all over his chin. Finest eater in town, he wipes his mouth when he's done and rips the yakitori off the stick immediately after.

"And you said you weren't hungry," I say, slightly in awe of this food massacre.

"_No,_" he mumbles while eating, then swallows. "I said I didn't have _time_ to eat, not that I don't _want_ to."

"How are you doing on the article?"

"Well." He leans over to the laptop, rubs his finger on the mouse pad to wake it from sleep mode, and explains, "It's a little after nine and I'm a little over halfway done."

"You'll be fine."

"Yeah." He nods. "I was just nervous. I always have my notes, so I wasn't worried about missing things, but I had to draft out the article and what I wanted to mention. Thing is, I'm already at four hundred words, so that's no good. I'll have to scale it down—which is the hard part. That's what is going to keep me up until midnight, but whatever."

"Mm-hmm."

"Heh." He nudges my shoulder. "This is boring to you, isn't it?"

"No, not at all."

He smirks, hunching his shoulders a bit, and says, "Anyway, thanks for the food, but I should get back to work."

"Finish your meal."

"No, I really—"

When he attempts to set his food down, I press it back to his chest.

"You can make up for your behavior by finishing your meal."

Monday, 12:37 AM

It's the crack of his neck that wakes me up. After shutting down the laptop and setting it off to his left on the floor, he sighs and rolls his neck back, then leans against the headboard. Every muscle in his body is tense, with his shoulders hunched and legs stiff. Part of me wonders how many nights Takeshi has worked himself to exhaustion just for an article some people might recognize his name in. It doesn't seem worth all the effort. What's his payment?

"It's so late," he mutters to himself. "I don't even want to move…"

"Well," I smirk when he flinches. "I figured as much."

"I thought you were asleep."

The lights are off, allowing only the moonlight across from my bed to shine through the bedroom. Natural alarm clock. Kind enough to not shine over my face while I'm sleeping and cruel enough to trick Takeshi into believing he can safely talk to himself in the dark. I creep near his hand before clutching it.

He gasps.

"Seriously," he says, relaxing. "You are _too_ quiet sometimes."

"I brought your uniform and your things, so you don't," and I hesitate at the suggestiveness, "_have_ to go home."

"Yeah?" He laughs when he notices the vague figure of his backpack near the door and then laces his fingers with mine. "You think of everything, don't you?"

Arching his back, he slowly cranes his neck forward. His feet slip under the sheets, scratching against the fibers and settling themselves just next to mine. As if it's tempting, he nudges his toes into mine, poking my feet, saying, _hey, these are your feet._

"Yes, Takeshi," I say.

He giggles, clearly tired.

And in one swift movement, settles himself next to me. A soft moan escapes him as he presses his cheek into my shoulder, a makeshift pillow, and he utters, "You're too sweet, you know that?" I don't move away when he climbs onto my shoulder and reaches his neck out to kiss my cheek. "I can't…" he chuckles, "handle it."

There's something a little drunk about Takeshi when he's exhausted, considering he now takes the liberty to slip his arm over my chest and pulls me towards him for a kiss. And if Krad were awake, he'd never let me live down the fact that I don't bother to fight, that instead I hold Takeshi's waist and go along with it. Maybe I'm just lonely.

One thing is for sure, Takeshi and Take-kun have one thing in common: When it comes to kissing, they always have a little extra energy. With some force, Takeshi pushes me onto my back and straddles me, lifting away from the kiss. My hands rest on his thighs while his rest on the buttons of my shirt. Curious fingers rub skin.

"Man," he whispers, absentmindedly stroking my chest, "I should not be feeling this way after two weeks." He sighs. "But I'm tired."

He certainly doesn't seem tired when he shadows my body with his, sinking his lips into mine. He over-thinks his movements with his hands, cradling my neck one moment, resting them on my chest the other. But I'm not really judging—too focused on how thick his thighs actually are, and how nice they are to grab, how nice a lot of his body is nice to grab, really. He moans when I squeeze just under his butt, then slips his hand inside my shirt. And he mutters, "Your hands are so cold."

"Sorry," I mutter back, nipping at his bottom lip, feeling his breath.

The intimacy just seems to steadily increase every time we find ourselves near each other. Just the other day he was embarrassed to be seen this intimate in public, but privacy changes people, I suppose. Takeshi likes combing my hair with his fingers, likes teasing my lips with that seductive fang of his, likes using tongue. His hands blush when he's excited, burn against my cheeks a little. Maybe I enjoy this because for once he's not tantalizing me, just delivering. When no one's looking, of course.

Somehow in an attempt to deepen the kiss, we manage to roll over with Takeshi digging his head into the pillows and me biting his neck. There's no rhythm to our movements, no fluidity. We clumsily smear our lips against each other, licking somewhere in the region. Our hands grab at anything that feels good because it's new. Takeshi pulls at my shirt, but there's no waiting for the rest of the buttons to be unfastened—it needs to be off, tug it off, get rid of it. And once that thing hits the ground, it only adds inspiration.

He arches his hips up, fumbling with the zipper of his pants as I start pulling them off him. Finally unzipping them in the desperation, I edge the pants past his hips, down his thighs. He raises his legs, letting me slip them off him and onto the floor. Considering I sleep in my boxers, I've already eliminated my pants long before this started. So my hands slip under Takeshi's shirt as I lean down to resume kissing. His legs spread and my groin presses against his.

And suddenly I realize where we're going.

"Are we…" I ask, hoarsely, but my pelvis seems to already know the answer. "Well."

Slightly gasping, slightly kissing, Takeshi says, "I don't know. Do… Do you want to?"

Perhaps it is because I had never thought I'd be faced with this situation with Takeshi that I didn't have an immediate answer. Two weeks ago, it would simply be _no_. Right now if my dick were to have any control, it'd be a surprising _yes_. Still, it's only been two weeks. And he's a virgin. And it's been awhile. I don't think I even _have_ a condom, let alone any lubricant to go easy on him. I guess we technically don't need either, but—my god, how did we get in this situation?

"Maybe," I stutter, "maybe we should wait."

But my dick wants some action—as crude as it is to admit—forcing me to involuntarily grind my groin into Takeshi's. Our erections awkwardly rub against each other at first, so I readjust my hips lower.

"O—" He gasps, bucking his pelvis. "_Oh_… kay."

Compromising my hands onto his thighs again, I find myself leading into a dangerous rhythm of grinding my erection between his legs. He just feels nice; his thighs feel warm around me. And there's just something about the way his cheeks blush.

Maybe I'm just _really _lonely.

"But we can, uh, we can still—"

"_Uh-huh_," he breaths out, following my movements with his hips, kneading my skin with his left leg. He spreads his legs wider, cueing me to go a little deeper. Suddenly there is nothing else in my mind but his rolling hips against my groin and his heated hands on my face. I grind harder.

"Oh, fuck," he moans. "Should we—Should we be doing this?" He says this while clutching my back. "Is this wrong?—_uh!_"

"I don't even care."

And I honestly don't. The moment I start pounding my hard-on against his ass, feeling his erection against me, all caring ceases to exist. If it weren't for our boxers, penetration would occur. Virginities would not exist in this room. We wouldn't be settling for dry sex.

"Ow, ow," Takeshi hisses. "Satoshi, too hard."

I pant, "Huh?"

"Your hipbones," he says, gripping onto my waist. "They're hurting me. Go lower."

With a little readjustment, we're back to grinding and kissing and gasping and moaning and feeling our hot breaths against each other. No sense in foreplay when there's no real goal. It's become a touch and feel moment.

_/Well, what's this I see?/_

Inhaling sharply, I hold myself up at arm's distance, staring down at Takeshi.

"Is," Takeshi furrows his brows, "something wrong, Satoshi?"

Stammering, I try to soothe Takeshi's worried brain and say, "Uh, yes—well, I think… I think if we go any further," I pant. "Well, it'll lead to something, won't it? Yes."

"Huh?" Takeshi props himself up on his shoulders. "We're… stopping?"

_/Oh, don't spoil the fun just because I'm here./_

_I can't risk transforming into you. _I hesitate to go further, but there's not much use in hiding my thoughts from Krad. _You were supposed to be asleep._

_/So, how often do you take advantage of him while I'm asleep, my love? Besides, I would take care of the puppy. I'm very good./_

_You will go nowhere near Takeshi._

_/So now that you've finally engaged with our little pet, he's yours only all of a sudden? Why, Satoshi-sama, you really should learn to share more often./_

_You will go __**nowhere near**__ Takeshi, Krad._

"But I don't," Takeshi kisses me softly, taking me away from my thoughts, "_want_ to stop." And again. "Not yet."

Now is not the time for Takeshi to channel with his seductive nature.

"_Oh,_ but we should." My heart begins to ache, signaling the nearness of Krad taking over, and so I start getting out of bed. "It's for our own good," I tell him.

"But Satoshi…" Takeshi grips onto my arm, pouting.

Just resist it. Another time. Another goddamn time.

"I'm sorry, but no."

He spreads his legs, and then mewls, "Are you _sure,_ Mister Hiwatari?"

_/How could you say no to such a face?/_

_Because I'd like that face to not run away screaming when I transform into a completely different person._

Reluctantly, I say, "I'm so sorry," and rush to the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

"Wha—Satoshi! Wait!"

"Things will happen!" I shout, twisting the shower faucet towards Cold.

"I thought we _wanted_ things to happen," he says, putting pressure on the door to open it. "Oh! Satoshi, open the door!"

"Now is not the right time, Takeshi." Bracing myself, I prepare to step into the shower. "Trust me."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No." I step into the shower and—"_WHY._"

Why must cold showers be the only solution to my current dilemma?

Takeshi, being unable to read my thoughts and see through doors, simply answers, "Well, I don't know. You randomly stopped and you had this look in your eyes like someone was going to murder you or something. I mean… it's not exactly a confidence booster, okay?"

It takes all of my concentration to stay under this freezing—wretched—water to calm myself down while still being able to respond to Takeshi, who is a victim to Krad's selfishness.

_/I'm not the one depriving him of what he wants./_

_I'm depriving you of what __**you**__ want._

_/Either way, it seems you are a horrible person./_

_Oh, shut up._

Now at a safe moment, I turn off the shower, shivering. My steps obnoxiously leave sloppy kisses for puddles on the tile floor as I unlock and open the door, revealing one frustrated Takeshi. His eyes widen at my state only for him to struggle to keep in his laughter. He has no right to laugh. He doesn't have to worry about transforming into a satanic being when he gets an erection.

"I didn't think it was that serious," he says, restraining himself. Barely.

"Don't question me."

"Yeah, well, get a towel. If there's one thing I'm not sleeping with, it's wet pillows."

_**Takeshi**_

Monday, 6:03 AM

Phone calls in the morning are generally never good. No one calls you up to say, _hey, good morning, just thought I should tell you some wonderful news so that your day starts off amazing! _Phone calls in the morning are just plain sadistic. All hopes for a decent day are thrown out the window when a vibrating cell phone is the reason you woke up this morning. Oh, were you hoping for a nice day at school? Well too bad, punkass, 'cause someone thought it'd be great to tell you your entire family got killed in an airplane crash at six in the morning—_but have a nice day._

Okay, so I'm not excited to see that my dad is calling me right now. This might be overreacting—or stalling. Whatever.

"Please," I mumble, blindly reaching for my pants on the floor while face-down on the mattress. After two more buzzes of my cell phone, I grab my phone from the left pocket and stare at the caller ID. _Hadraniel._ I list everyone in my phone under an angel's name—because I think it's cool, all right?—and generally try to find something fitting. Hadraniel is one of the angels of love, but don't be fooled. He's a hardass. Like, he made Moses cry before handing over the Ten Commandments because he deemed Moses _unworthy_ and wanted Moses to prove otherwise, _hardass._ So, yeah, that's Dad.

"Answer it," Satoshi mumbles, turning over to his left to face me.

"It's my dad."

"You still have to answer it," he says, yawning right after.

So, with as much innocence as I could muster, I face Hadraniel and greet, "Good morning, Dad."

"_Where the fuck are you?"_

"Um…"

"_And don't you even dare say you're in your bed," _he growls,_ "because I'm in your fucking bedroom and I don't __**see**__ you."_

"Heh." I nervously eye Satoshi. "About that…"

"_Where __**are**__ you?"_ Then, more calmly, he says, _"Do I need to pick you up? Are you all right?"_

Now, I have never done anything to break my father's trust other than sneak out to get footage of the Great Phantom Thief, Dark Mousy, so things aren't nearly as exciting as they could be in the Saehara household. We would make horrible television as an afterschool drama special, to the point that adding Satoshi to our social circle has really livened things up. Seriously.

Things is, I think Dad—on some level—has been preparing for me to do something horribly irrational since he's a cop who's had to bust drunken teenagers, high teenagers, fornicating teenagers, vandalizing no-good-for-nothing teenagers, and the like one-too-many times in his life. I've been getting the Don't Do Drugs talk and the Sex talk every year since I can remember.

So, here we are. The day has come… sort of. Who even knows what my father is conjuring up in his whacked-out head, but I am somewhat offended. If I'm going to _go astray_ all of sudden, I'm not going to do it on a Sunday night of all nights. Though, at least I have the small comfort that should I ever need a ride home, I can count on my father. That's kinda nice.

But seriously, he should know better.

"I'm at Satoshi's," I say. I'm going to neglect the small detail that I am also half-naked in Satoshi's bed. Some things are best left unsaid.

"_Why are—"_

"Well, you see, I had to finish writing my article and by the time I finished, it was half past midnight—and you know that the trains close early at night, so I couldn't take the metro. And I didn't want to walk that late. So I stayed here, but I didn't do anything but sleep, I swear," I say, holding my breath.

Satoshi averts his eyebrows, to which I shove his face away from my shoulder.

"_You __**had**__ to finish your article at Hiwatari's house?"_

"Well, yeah, it was due by midnight last night."

"_And what was preventing you from simply __**coming home earlier**__ yesterday? You just __**had**__ to spend the whole day with him?"_

My shoulders hunch. He's not buying the excuse. If there's anything that my father stresses, it's to know your priorities. Don't worry about dessert if you haven't even eaten dinner, type of thing. I hate it. I mean, what if I _want_ to eat my metaphorical ice cream with my steak? Is that really such a crime?

"I honestly didn't mean to… We were just grocery shopping, but I guess we lost track of time."

"_So you spent the night."_

I never claimed to make good life choices.

"We didn't do anything," I whisper. Technically we didn't, at least. "I wouldn't lie to you."

It's because of this that he sighs and gives in, _"I know you wouldn't. But don't just,"_ he growls, _"don't just think this is __**okay**__, you hear me? You can't just… Damn it, you can't just sleep over your," _he hesitates for a moment, _"__**boyfriend's**__ house whenever you feel like it."_

"I know, I'm sorry."

"_Even for homework."_ Man, am I going to be lectured the Sex Talk ten times over when I come home… _"And next time __**call me**__, Takeshi."_

"I will, sorry, but thanks for understa—"

"_You are __**lucky**__ that your mother is coming over this weekend, so I can't mention this, but let me tell you, Takeshi… If you pull this shit __**again**__, I don't care about your article or how much you want to hang out with Hiwatari, you are __**grounded forever**__."_

And then he hangs up.

At least I'm not grounded… now.

Once I set my phone back on the ground next to my clothes, Satoshi takes cue and asks, "Everything go relatively smoothly?"

"For the most part," I say, scooting over to him and nuzzling into his hair. "But I'm grounded if we try to do this again." It hits me that Satoshi and I were an article of clothing away from having sex last night. "And, uh, sorry about last night."

"If anything, I should apologize."

"Yeah, but I'm the one who started it."

"I'm the one who was thrusting into you."

This makes me blush. I never would have guessed that one day I'd be spreading my legs to a _guy,_ let alone Satoshi Hiwatari, school heartthrob and my father's superior. Things just got a little crazy last night. I was tired and he was there, letting me be tired. And he did like five thousand favors for me last night with the laptop and the sleepover and the take-out and the bag of clothes and my backpack and so, all right, I felt like I owed him something.

No, that's not why.

If some other guy had done this, I would just, I don't know, buy him lunch or something. I've just known Satoshi for a long time, and I can trust him, I guess. And he is a good kisser. It's not as if my heart is racing when I'm around him, but I don't mind being with him. It's better than being alone all the time. Is that what this is? I'm just lonely, so I'm okay with sleeping with Satoshi? Well, if we ever actually do it, that is.

"Oh man, this is crazy," I mutter, "and it's only been two weeks."

"We have been getting a bit… racier."

"I don't think we can blame it on stress anymore."

Sexual tension was always something I wrote about in my spare time, not something that I experienced. Maybe I'm just overanalyzing this, but now that it's in my head—now that I know what Satoshi's erection _feels like_, it's kind of hard to concentrate on anything else while being mere millimeters away from his face. In his bed. My thighs still ache a little from his hipbones.

"You need to eat more," I say.

"What?"

"My thighs still hurt." I twirl his bangs. "I didn't mind it too much last night, though."

"What does that mean?" he says, looking me in the eyes. It's gotten very serious all of a sudden and my fingers have stopped twirling his hair. I don't know what it means. I don't know why I mentioned it, as if I…

I want to do it again.

My eyes widen and I grow a little flustered as this self-realization, but it's true, isn't it? I didn't hold back last night—in fact, when Satoshi stopped, I tried to… seduce him. Oh god, I was _trying_ to _seduce him._ This is what I've become. I'm not a journalist. I'm just a slut. All efforts to preserve my virginity were thrown out the window the moment opportunity legitimately arrived. I don't even know why I bother anymore. Clearly I don't even care about it. I might as well just jump Satoshi's bones right now and get it over with.

GAH.

"I don't know," I whine. "I'm kind of confused, but—no, not really, I'm just…" I sigh. "I don't know. Horny, I guess?" I gasp. "I mean!—not right now. I'm not horny right _now_, but I…"

Okay, maybe I'm a little horny right now.

OH MY GOD. WHAT.

"We're supposed to hold hands today."

"Huh?"

Satoshi, very casually, clarifies: "Today is Monday, and on the schedule it says we are supposed to hold hands."

I scoff. "Yeah, well, we're a little past that."

"That's my point. We _are_ past that. We have consciously ignored every bit about what our intimacy levels should be according to the schedule."

He only tilts his head to the left to look me in the eyes, but our noses are so close and I can feel him breathing. So, cautiously I lean in and kiss him, letting him kiss me back. It's brief, but it's defining. I dart my eyes away as I ask, "We're attracted to each other, right?"

"There doesn't seem to be any point in denying it."

My lips shy themselves into a smile.

"However," he says, "we probably shouldn't rush things."

"Okay." I smirk. "Mister Hiwatari likes it slow, huh."

I inch closer to him only to stop when he remarks, "I'm doing this for your sake."

"Satoshi, I'm a _virgin,_ not some fair maiden waiting for her prince." My fingers brush against his arm, then gently ghost their way down to his hand. "I don't mind if it's you."

Just faintly do I hear him say, "But you are a maiden."

Our fingers lace.

_**Satoshi**_

Monday, 7:08 AM

_/Did I miss something important?/_

For many reasons I will not reveal to Krad why exactly I am currently holding hands with Takeshi as we casually walk towards the train station. We will say that we are doing so because the schedule has it listed as today's activity (and not much else, really), but to admit that we're coming to the conclusion that there is some sexual attraction between us? Since there isn't a _defining_ answer, then no one has the urgency to know.

Still, it is becoming increasingly unsettling how much Takeshi makes me worry about transforming. I don't want to face what this means.

"You know," Takeshi coos, sliding his free hand against a bar rail as we walk along a bridge, "I've just realized something."

He squeezes my hand, swirling his thumb. Aside from perhaps a peck on the cheek, I think this is the most affection Takeshi is willing to perform in public, which is wonderful. Really.

"All right," I say.

"I mean, I know we've been together for two weeks, but," he stops walking just as we reach the steps up to the train station and murmurs, "I didn't think I'd actually have a boyfriend."

"Then don't tell anyone you have one."

_/Did I miss something __**very**__ important? What exactly is going on here?/_

He smirks, leading us up the stairs, and says, "I happen to like my boyfriend, you know. He gets me my favorite take-out even when I'm acting like a total asshole."

Then he kisses my cheek.

It's not satisfying, which worries me. And so I tease, "Mine tends to kiss me too often."

I don't know why we flirt so much. Or why it flows so fluidly. He takes his hand away from mine and opens the door, knowing his other hand was free, and it's not as if it bothered me, but my hand breathed in the cool air too fast and it felt odd. Not knowing what to do, my hand lingers by my side as I follow Takeshi into the station, where only a few other passengers wait.

"Yeah, well," he says, wiping his right hand against his pants. "I'm pretty sure my boyfriend doesn't mind. I bet he likes it."

And after wiping the sweat from his palm, he links his hand with mine again.

"I'm sure he does."

_/Just so we're clear, nothing happened last night beyond the heavy petting, yes?/_

_Right._

_/And yet now you two are sickening lovebirds./_

_We're not lovebirds. _

_/My darling, even I have the desire to vomit after your entire 'my boyfriend likes this' game. What happened? What did you to do to the puppy?/_

_We're just letting out some frustrations. Experimenting, so to speak._

_/Oh god, really. Is that really what you're telling yourself./_

_We're not in love. We didn't just suddenly realize our feelings for one another, so I don't know why you can't just accept that we've accepted our relationship as a physical one. Er, not just phy—_

_/Oh, so it's just physical, is it? Well then, Satoshi, my dear, you wouldn't mind if I furthered__** my**__ relationship with our darling pet, right?/_

_No—_

_/No? That's just wonde—/_

_No, as in, I mean it, Krad. I want you __**no where near**__ Takeshi. _

_/I think we should let the puppy choose his owner. Or are you afraid who he'll choose?/_

Monday, 7:14 AM

Takeshi wakes up much later on Mondays mainly due to the fact that he stays up late on Sunday nights finishing some articles for deadlines. So, considering he had to wake up early for my routine commute, it is not surprising to find him fallen asleep on my shoulder as we wait for the train to reach our destination. He might not be sleeping—he might just have his eyes closed—but to be considerate, I don't say anything.

Until, of course, he says, "Does it feel like someone is watching us?"

He doesn't lift his head or open his eyes. Just casually ponders the idea of being stalked while resting on my shoulder, holding my hand. Normalcy will never be a part of him.

"Not really," I answer. "Why?"

"I think someone is watching us."

"Don't worry about it. Just go back to sleep."

"I'm depending on you to kill the stalker should he try to attack us on the train, just so you know."

"Sure."

_**Shimane**_

Before my very eyes, I am witnessing a priceless news story about Saehara Takeshi sleeping on Hiwatari Satoshi's shoulder at 7:18 AM, Monday morning. Sure, my main focus is sports writing, but this is big. Really big. I mean, why is Saehara even commuting with Hiwatari in the first place? His house is closer to the school. Hiwatari doesn't need company in commuting, since he's always writing in his composition notebook (we have the same commute; I know these things). Beyond that, why is Saehara sleepy when he's normally a morning person? It could only mean that he didn't get enough sleep last night. And since Saehara hates back-tracking, he definitely didn't come to Satoshi's house just to come to school, which means he was probably _already there._ But why would he be there? And sleepy? Sure, they're boyfriends now, but—

Oh shit.

_Oh shit._

They're _doing it._

Man, when Saehara dedicates himself to an article, he really fucking _dedicates_ himself. He's gonna be big someday, I just know it.

Knowing that I seriously need to document this, I pull out my digital camera, position my elbows on the seat in front of me and snap a photo of the honeymooners. Don't know what I'm gonna do with this goldmine, but I'll have to investigate. Maybe Nara has some gossip on them—she talks to Saehara all the time in class, right? Yeah.

Man, this is gonna be big.

**I LIKE BRAINS**

_A Column by Takeshi Saehara_

Second week and the ice is beginning to melt from Hiwatari Satoshi. Yes, _ladies_… and gentlemen, this week was all about Satoshi's affection: Is he a cuddler? Does he like PDA? Will he set his coat on a puddle for you to selfishly walk over? The answer?

Eh, well, sort of.

If you like kissing, go crazy! Chances are he won't refuse, be it the cheek or the real deal, just as long as you make your boundaries clear. You don't want to end up making out in front a painting in the Shinobi Art Museum, right? Right. Still, if you want a cuddle-fest after your smooching time, _tough luck._ Lay down by Satoshi all you want, folks, but there won't be sweet nothings being whispered in your ears.

Chances are there won't be anything whispered in your ears if you don't take initiative. A phone call with Satoshi is about as interesting as you make it, as in: if you're shy and rely on other people leading the discussion, then you and Satoshi should never communicate beyond face-to-face. So, for you chatterboxes with a _beaming personality,_ you have a slight advantage. If you have the wit for it, you can talk about whatever you want. We've managed to squeeze in zombies and religion, food and the French Revolution, blissful silence and my enthusiasm over how words sound (which is even more fun when he repeats said fascinating words in a deadpan voice). Creativity makes the conversation all the sweeter.

So far it seems to be more give than take with Mister Hiwatari: Expect surprise phone calls from his workplace to take him away from your precious Love Time. If you have a flexible schedule and are willing to compromise with his, the relationship shouldn't suffer. Chances are Satoshi will try not to cancel any dates, but rather he would like to work around them. _Don't_ expect to meet Satoshi's father, however. That's probably not going to happen.

Yet, there are obviously his good quirks. If you like the kisses that make you melt with complimentary warm embraces, he can provide you those. Need a savior, damsels in distress? Fret no more because he's there to rescue you, albeit with a "disinterested" attitude. Want to have someone who thinks of you and do tiny favors that mean more to you than anything else? Then keep sighing at Mister Hiwatari's gentleman wonder.

He'll even tell you he has no hobbies except for spending time with _you._

Now stop your daydreaming. I still have him for eight more weeks.

**Satoshi Fact #2:**

He sucks at karaoke.

_**Takeshi**_

There's nothing like blackmail to start off your class hour.

Monday, 9:57 AM

"Saw you getting comfy with Hiwatari this morning," Shimane says, plopping himself down in the seat in front of me. He straddles the chair as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his red digital camera, flashing the LCD screen with a perfectly spotlighted photo of me resting my head on Satoshi, hands locked. Darting my vision to the rest of the classroom, I find some comfort that my classmates are busily typing away at their computer stations or plotting their articles for Wednesday's mid-issue report. Still.

"How did you…" I reach for the camera, only for Shimane to pull it away.

"Hey, hey, don't worry. I'm not a tabloid artist or anything," he says, which sort of relieves me, I guess. "But mind explaining why you were with him that early?" Until he gives me a toothy grin and averts his brows. "Did you sleep over?"

My eyes widen. I'm not sure if we're heading towards blackmail territory or just some old-fashioned kiss-and-tell gossip, but either way, I'm not willing to go any further. After all, we _are_ in the journalism classroom. This is not a safe zone. This is the complete opposite of a safe zone. This is what is referred to as "according to inside sources" in articles: some idiot who said something in front of his coworkers.

"Uh…" I shrug, "I was just going to school with him. Couples do that sort of thing, right? It's for research."

"So, you're telling _me_ that despite you living five minutes away from school, you took the train _all_ the way to Hiwatari's house just to take it back here this morning?"

Our eyes meet.

"Is that what you're saying?" he says.

I bite my lip, trying to come up with a decent excuse, but there's not much to say once he puts it like _that_, now is there? In that scenario, it would have made more sense if Satoshi visited my house to walk to the school, so now I just look stupid. Shimane is a bright kid. Sure, he may be the sports writer, but that's his advantage—he sees the smallest moves, predicts the plays before they happen. Damn it. He knows.

"I was just writing my column at his house, that's all," I mutter, trying to make sure no one else heard.

"Holy _shit_, I'm _right?_" He gasps, leaning in to me. "So, did you two… you know?"

"Shimane!"

"You can't tell me you two haven't done anything. Not with this," he says, holding his digital camera up to my face. "Who you performing for on the metro, Saehara? You two dig each other, don't you? Come on."

"Saehara-saaaaan," Nara pops up from behind me, holding my shoulders. "I read your article this morning and it was so swee—_oh my god,_ is that you sleeping on Hiwatari-san's shoulder? Eeeeeek!"

"It's not what you th—"

"You two are _such_ a cute couple," she squeals. "Like, I wouldn't even be mad if you two stayed together after your column ends because you make Hiwatari-san look human, you know?"

I blink. "I do?"

"_And your article!_"

Hunching my shoulders over, I moan at the thought of my horribly put-together article and whine, "Don't talk about that piece of crap… Ugh."

"What are you talking about? It was like something you could read out of _Cosmo_ or _OK! Magazine_, you know?" She pokes my cheek. "You should think about interning at one of those pop magazines, Saehara-san." She gasps, "Like _Girl's Talk!_"

"Oh yes," I mumble. "The finest journalism is celebrity gossip…"

"Well, it's what people want to _read._"

"_Anyway_," Shimane cuts in, turning my head to face him. "Spill the goods. What did you _really_ do at Hiwatari's house last night?"

"You were at Hiwatari-san's house last night?" Nara gasps, her eyes glittering. "Did you sleep over? You're so naughty, you little slut!"

Noticing some heads turn, I grip onto Nara's wrists and yank them off my shoulders as I hiss, "Shut _up_. People will get the wrong idea!"

"Yeah, but you must have done _something,_" teases Shimane, who slips his camera back into his pocket. He's on a goal to trick me into telling him what I did last night with Satoshi, but I won't let him win. Even if he confidently runs a hand through his red hair—it's dyed red hair full of _deceit._ There's no intimidating me!

"It's okay," Nara giggles. "But you _must tell me_, does your heart flutter when Hiwatari-san holds you in his arms and passionately kisses you?"

Damn it, Nara.

"…Wh-What? Who said anything about us… doing… that?"

"You wrote it in your article! And don't you test out those things? Or are you lying about the way Hiwatari kisses so that he looks better?"

See, there is a reason I hate this week's article. While trying to give some insight to the warmth in Satoshi's lips without actually stating the fact that I've made out with the guy, I've still managed to imply that I've made out with the guy. Granted, I do sort of like it, but that doesn't mean I want people to _know_. I'm just a pawn in this relationship article for other people to imagine themselves in future relationships with Satoshi, not a test subject to be observed in a Petri dish! Though, I suppose that would defeat the point of the column. My dedication better pay off some day.

Still, I am a bit ashamed of that sloppy excuse of a column today. So many things unsaid, the dates weren't even properly described, nobody actually understands what I'm referencing… It's like a huge horoscope and I can't believe I allowed it to get published.

"Saehara," Hadae, the intimidating editor-in-chief I've come to admire, approaches me from behind and pats me on the back. "Good work on today's article."

Oh great. She likes the piece of shit.

"Er… Thank you, Hadae-sempai."

"However," she says, tilting the clipboard in her hands forward. "In your next article, be more descriptive on how Hiwatari kisses you. Too much of a tease, Saehara. Readers want details, not a summary." And just to add salt to the wounds: "I'd also like to hear about last night's events in next week's article, too."

This class is going to turn me into a whore.

"Oh, and I want pictures."

Seriously.

_**Daisuke**_

_/Ask Creepy Boy if they made out./_

_I'm not going to ask that!_

_/Why not? Don't you want to know?/_

_No! That's their business!_

_/Pfft. Not really. Takeshi-Hot Stuff was practically saying they're in the make-out stage of their relationship in that column of his, but I wanna knoooow. Come on, ask him./_

"_Takeshi-Hot Stuff"?_

_/I'm trying to come up with a nickname to piss off Satoshi tonight. You like it? I don't think it's working. Maybe Ta-cutsie? Eh? No, that su—/_

_Don't nickname him! We don't need any more problems with Hiwatari. Leave him and Saehara alone. And stop calling Saehara "Takeshi"! I don't even—_

_/Yeah, why don't you? You're his best friend, aren't you?/_

_I… I just never called him by his first name. I could if I wanted to. __**You**__ are just causing trouble. What you did on Friday… _

_/…was so worth it./_

_Was unnecessary! I hope it didn't cause any problems with Hiwatari and Saehara…_

"What is he saying?"

Satoshi sets down his container of rice on the table. Takeshi hasn't left his journalism class yet, so it's been the two of us at the picnic table by the tree for the past ten minutes. And in these ten minutes, I read Takeshi's column.

"What do you mean?" I try to smile.

"You know what I mean," he says, narrowing his eyes. "What is he saying?"

To make peace, I say, "He says he's sorry about what he said on Friday."

_/What? No, I'm not! Stop saying these lies!/_

Not quite satisfied with my answer, Satoshi responds, "It was never an issue."

"Oh, that's good." I laugh, trying to hide my nervousness. I hope Takeshi comes soon. "I mean, that's right. You two are just pretending to be a couple, so it's not like you'd care if Saehara made out with Krad or anything. Heh."

Man, I'm bad at this.

_/Quick! Use this to segue into asking him if they made out!/_

_NO._

"Actually, I _do_ care if Takeshi 'makes out' with Krad."

What?

"You… do?"

"Believe it or not, I don't like the fact that Takeshi knows who Krad is."

"Oh no…"

At this, Satoshi and I notice Takeshi standing at the end of the picnic table with a food tray in his hands. I wonder why he didn't make lunch for today? Or why he didn't tell me so that I would join him in line?

He sits down next to Satoshi, worried, and asks him, "You're still angry about that?"

Takeshi knew that Satoshi was angry about Krad? I always figured Satoshi would hide that sort of thing. Was he actually jealous?

"It meant nothing," Takeshi assures.

"Just stay away from him."

_/Whoa. Commander is being territorial. They're definitely making out./_

_For crying out loud!_

_/I'm just saying./_

With an understanding nod, Takeshi props himself next to Satoshi and places his fruit cup on Satoshi's lunch tray. This is the beginning of their third week and their movements are already beginning to flow with each other. Takeshi's fingers linger over his donated fruit cup as if contemplating on whether he wants it to be a complete donation; his elbow just barely touches Satoshi's chest. And with a graceful forking of a pear piece, Satoshi offers, "You can have the pineapple."

"Actually, I forgot to get a napkin." Takeshi begins to get up from his seat. "I'll go get one."

"Just use mine."

It would take literally one minute for Takeshi to walk back to the cafeteria to fetch a napkin, but it would mean he'd have to leave the table. It would mean Takeshi _wouldn't_ shrug and settle himself back down next to Satoshi, their shoulders brushing whenever they reached over each other's trays to share food. Sure, they've shared food in the past—mainly because Takeshi has _always_ nagged Satoshi about eating more—but something is a bit different today. Not hugely; it's not as if Takeshi is wiping Satoshi's cheek or anything, but…

"So," Takeshi breaks the silence. "I hear Dark Mousy is going to steal tonight."

Satoshi nods, "Yes. I received a message earlier today from the office."

"Great," Takeshi sighs. "No sleep for me."

"You don't _have_ to report tonight. You need rest."

Ah. Satoshi is finally joining me in the bitter fight against Takeshi's insomnia. He will learn soon enough that it is a great enemy, one that has ruled over Takeshi's life for years while sadistically feeding him the idea that "not sleeping" means "working hard." And even though there will be days where the bags under Takeshi's eyes really bring out the zombie look, he will learn that Takeshi has conditioned himself to be an incredibly functional human being on very little fuel. So when Takeshi playfully nudges Satoshi's shoulder with his, I'm not too surprised when he says, "Don't worry about me. I'm used to this."

"You'll exhaust yourself."

"You're one to talk."

"I get paid for all of my work, Takeshi."

"And one day, I will, too." His lips purse. "Besides, I was only sleepy this morning because of _you_."

Wait, what?

_/OH MY GOD. What does that even fucking __**MEAN?**__ You better fucking ask them! Holy shit!/_

_Calm down! It's probably just a misunderstanding!_

_/Well, then you better clear it up because my mind is being __**blown**__ right now!/_

"Um," I awkwardly chuckle, "heh, uh… what? What was that?"

The both of them jerk their heads toward me, realizing that hey, yeah, I'm still here, sitting at the picnic table across from them being all boyfriends and crap, but whatever. No big deal. I mean, what do they have to hide? Takeshi and I are best friends, so he would tell me this kind of stuff, right? He told me about Krad.

"It's… it's not what it sounds like," Takeshi stutters.

"Okay," I say. "Then, what are you… talking about?"

"Well, um." Takeshi turns to Satoshi. "I don't know, you tell him."

"Due to some circumstances, Takeshi had to write his article at my house," Satoshi explains rather calmly. "So he slept over."

Excuse me?

_/WHOA. Are they…?/_

_Don't rush to conclusions! They probably just slept. That'd be crazy if they…_

_/I don't know, Dai. Hormones are kinda crazy. And they're guys. Couple of horny guys in one room… Well, let me tell you, sometimes it doesn't seem so ba—/_

_Really. Are we really having this discussion now?_

_/There's __**nothing wrong**__ with experimentation, Daisuke!/_

"Niwa?"

If I wasn't observing their every move before, it's magnified now. Takeshi sits with a slight lean to the left near Satoshi, whose hands I can't see. In fact, I can't see Takeshi's hands either. So, in some confused attempt to clarify where the existence of their hands is, I ask, "Are you two…"

"What?" Takeshi's eyes widen as he blushes. "Niwa!"

"…holding hands under the table?"

_/That was guilt. Oh man! THAT WAS GUILT IN HIS VOICE. IN HIS FACE./_

Their hands slap onto the table as if this is reassuring evidence, and they turn their heads away from each other. Were they holding hands? I have no idea. Probably. It wouldn't be an issue if it weren't for the fact that sex might be attached, and I definitely have no idea what's going on in_ that_ area. I can only gather that _something_ happened last night because why else would they be like this? Why would they bicker over each other's health and work, or share food, or sit so close, or hide the fact that they're holding hands? Why would they be afraid of telling me as if I'm going to judge them? We're all friends here.

Oh.

"If you two like each other," I tell them, "it's okay, you know."

That's not entirely true, but I have to be supportive of Takeshi, at least. But this is different. I mean, maybe I sort of expected this to happen because they've always had this _thing_ between them, this connection. They fight a lot, sure, but it's never _really_ fighting—it's like they're flirting, I guess. I just never imagined they'd actually confront it, even with this whole article idea. I never thought that Satoshi would let his guard down.

I wonder what Krad thinks of this situation.

_/Any reason for transformation is good enough for Krad./_

_They can't be that serious._

_/Oh, says the guy who transforms at a picture of a cute girl./_

_That's not my fault!_

"We weren't holding hands," Takeshi says. "Not right now."

But they have. And they've kissed. And now that I think about it, why _did_ Takeshi ever meet Krad? In Satoshi's house, no less? What were they _doing_ that made Satoshi transform so riskily? And now Takeshi has slept over. What are they doing? It's none of my business, I guess, but…

"We're still adjusting." Satoshi clears his throat.

Takeshi nods, agreeing.

Adjusting to what? To accepting that they've always sort of liked each other? Because they don't need to adjust to the way they act towards each other. When I smile at them to feign obliviousness, they revert to poking at each other's bad habits while sharing the last bits of their fruit cup. Their lives are slowly beginning to revolve around each other as Takeshi mentions his father still being angry from this morning, and all Satoshi does is wipe his mouth and say, "I'll make sure to explain everything tonight when we're working on the Dark case."

"Also remind him that you're coming over for dinner tomorrow," Takeshi says, taking the napkin from Satoshi to wipe his cheek.

They really are turning into a couple.

"Fine."

I bet they don't even notice.

_**Dark**_

Monday, 8:17 PM

_Just, please, do what you're supposed to do and leave._

_/I only want to talk to him./_

_Oh, right, because that always ends well. Just take the painting and go! Why do we have to cause trouble? Why can't we do one stealing without causing trouble?_

Eagerly, I wait around the corner near the _Ragnatele a coste d'argento_ painting—and for a moment, I really do wonder if I should just steal this painting and leave or wait for Satoshi for a little chat. I could ask him what's the deal with this painting since it doesn't really look like anything. Just a bunch of gray lines and one long blue streak going across it. Whatever.

_We're not here to observe the art. Just steal it already!_

_/What do you see? Because I'm getting nothing./_

_I don't know. Mom says it's Italian. Something about spider webs, I think._

_/Then what's with the blue line?/_

_Who cares, Dark! We're running out of time! We'll have a perfectly meaningful conversation on the painting when we're home! We need to go __**now!**_

"I see you waited for me," charms the monotone voice of Commander Hiwatari, ready to play a little battle of the wits.

"Oh, I always do, you know."

His hand twitches, which prompts him to flex his fingers as he saunters over to me, eyeing my every move. Wiz has yet to be called, so I suppose the good ol' cop is a bit paranoid of surprise escapes. And since I've yet to unhinge the painting from the wall, meaning I've yet to trigger the alarms and sirens and all those dramatic bits museums have—well, it seems Satoshi has a slight advantage here.

"Why are you taking your time?" He narrows his eyes and his shoulders hunch, anticipating a chase.

"I just want to talk a little," I chirp, teasing the golden frame of my next victim. Feels fancy.

"What do you want?"

"Oh, I love it when you cooperate!" And with one swift turn on the heel, I ask, "You don't mind if I bring up Takeshi-_kun_ again, do you?"

Gritting his teeth, he mutters, "Don't call him that."

_Whhhhyyyy!_

"Why?—oh, do you call him that? Sorry if I'm—"

"Listen, I have no time to defend Takeshi's honor here," he says, whipping out a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. The blue-haired wonder then jerks himself at me, reaching for my hands—just missing me when I slide to the left. With this little tango of ours, we need a rose, but I only have a painting, so time to twirl it in my fingers.

"You know," I coo, lifting the painting off its hooks. A seizure-inducing white light flashes from above it as a sharp piercing shriek goes off every two seconds. I wince, then continue what I was saying, "All I wanted to know was if the gossip was true."

This brings him to a halt, enough to let me creep past him.

"What gossip?" But he grabs my shoulder from behind.

"Heh." I tilt my head towards him. "I hear you slept with Takeshi."

_**Satoshi**_

_/You're already letting your emotions get the best of you, why not let me solve everything?/_

_I don't need you interfering. I can handle this—and my emotions are __**fine.**_

_**/**__Are you sure about that, my love? It seems lately all you ever do is provide me with opportunities. You're such a tease./_

"What do you expect to gain out of this?" I grunt, clutching my heart and trying to fend off Krad's insistence to transform.

"Already?" Dark, that cocky bastard, loves to titter at the thought of death. "I guess you really did do the dirty deed, huh? Was it fun?"

This shouldn't bother me.

_/Let's have some fun./_

_**Krad**_

"Going for the casual look, Krad?" Dark sneers, pointing at the jeans and red sweater on me. "Took you four centuries too long, but all right."

One forgets about clothing in a void, so what does it matter the type of clothing I wear? Even so, perhaps I should have resisted enough minutes to change back into my routine outfit since my last visit to the physical world. Despite denim and jersey being appropriate fabrics to wear in front of the puppy, they're not quite as suitable for murder.

"You sure that sweater can handle your wings?"

"What do you care?"

"Ripped some pretty nasty holes in the back—just thought you should know."

_You're too radical. This will only end in the same way it always does. You'll chase after him, and he'll get away._

_/Hn./ _

The kaitou loves a good laugh, doesn't he?

With good-natured tones, I say, "Why yes, I do seem to know how to do that."

"Ooh! A sex joke!" He steps toward the window. "And here I thought you were _above_ those."

"Ah, no, you've misunderstood me."

Our eyes lock.

"Though, I suppose I can understand how you'd confuse sex with murder."

_**Takeshi**_

Not a single decent photo tonight. If it's not some blurred figure in the sky, it's probably some statue I'm _hoping_ is Dark Mousy near a window. Once again, I'll have to rely on referencing the artwork stolen rather than the award-winning portrait of the mysterious art thief. And I couldn't even sneak in the museum because Dad noticed me near the entrance. Can't get on his nerves for awhile…

Tonight wasn't particularly exciting anyway, aside from the usual police officers that swear they see an angel every time Dark comes to steal. Maybe he steals art for the _gods_, huh. Oh, but tonight was extra heavenly because there were _two_ angels. Oh, yeah. I'd love pictures of that bullshit.

Sometimes I wonder what the hiring process for the police agency is like.

Even Dad and Satoshi are a little nuts in their own obsessive way. They both would probably nag me to death for cutting through the park at night, but it's the fastest way back to the metro, so the impatient daredevil in me prevails. And I would keep thinking this if it weren't for the loud _whoosh_ sound above my head through the tree branches—and then _another_ loud _whoosh_. Quick. What animals in Japan naturally fly at speeds of a rocket? Well, shit, I don't know—I don't even think any of our birds can do that, and it sounded big, like at least a wolf-size big. Does the world even _have_ wolf-size birds? Er, well, an ostrich, I guess, but they don't fly.

Suddenly, the _wooshers_ make another lap above my head through the trees, which I try to get a peak at, but they were moving too fast. All I could make out was a dark blur and whitish one. One shouts, "Ugh, you take forever to give up!"

They speak. Which means they're human—but humans can't fly! And humans can't move that fast. They'd have to be like some different kind of creature, like a vampire or something.

I gasp.

Wait. Vampires aren't real.

Or are they?

"Hello?" I shout, aiming to distract one for a photo. If they're vampires, I'm at least going to snap a quick shot with my camera. And then my cult memory slaps me with the cold hard realization that you can't take a photo of a vampire.

Well, that sucks.

Heh. That's a—

DAMN IT, TAKESHI. THERE MIGHT BE VAMPIRES AND ALL YOU HAVE IS A CAMERA.

A sharp crack, and something gets caught. "Shit!" Some desperate flapping, grunting, growling, fumbling. "_DARK!_"

I can feel my eyes glittering.

THE GREAT PHANTOM DARK MOUSY IS HERE AT THE PARK.

POTENTIALLY A VAMPIRE.

AND—wait, this totally explains why I can never get a good picture of the damn guy. But… But if he's a vampire, then this moment is worthless on film. Refusing to accept this, I grab my tape recorder and press the red button that will hopefully provide me a journalist's wet dream: the voice of Dark Mousy.

"Hello!" I shout, running towards the rustling branches and muttered cursing. "If you have any connection to the Great Dar—"

_**Krad**_

_PULL YOUR WINGS BACK. NOW._

_/Excuse you, they happen to be stuck./_

_I AM __**NOT**__ FUCKING AROUND. PULL YOUR WINGS BACK BEFORE TAKESHI SEES YOU._

It's very rare for my wings to be in pain, but considering one wing foolishly got caught against an entanglement of branches while I was side-stepping one of Dark's maneuvers, folding them back into my spine meant cracking a few too many joints and scraping my skin against bark. The sudden rush of inflammation causes me to lose focus that I lunge myself away from the branches and straight into the ground. It's not one of my most graceful of landings, to say the least.

"If you have any connection to the Great Dar—" Takeshi's sweet gasp of disbelief gives me enough will to have me get back on my feet, if only but to listen to him say, "Oh my god, are you all right?"

_Only Takeshi could see you as a victim._

"I'm fine, thank you." My voice sounds strained because the exposed flesh on my back really is burning while splinters provide a lovely throbbing sensation all around. Not one of my most flattering appearances, but a twist in the game can be fun. So, I smile gently and say, "Just a scratch."

"Did Dark do this to you?"

His fingers reach out to my wounds, fingering the loose sweater threads. They ghost over my spine, which were I not writhing in pain at the moment would only signal an opportunity to take advantage of the seductive pet. If only, but sometimes seduction takes time. For now, I'm a bit curious as to his conclusion.

"What makes you think that?" I grunt, only because I have pride. Of course Dark could never cause me pain because he lacks any skills to do so. If anyone is going to harm me, it will be my own mistakes.

"I heard someone shout his name," he says, placing his tape recorder into his pocket. Out of a zipper in his cargo pants, he retrieves a roll of bandages and glances at my wounds. It's not nearly enough and he can see that.

"It's fine, really," I say.

"No, you're hurt!" His voice grows soft. "Who _did_ this to you, then? It looks as if someone was really trying to harm you…" He pulls at my sweater. "And they ripped your shirt."

I smirk.

From his other zippered pocket, he pulls out his cell phone. Somewhat alarmed, I grip onto his wrist. I would imagine from all the paperwork documentation people seem to love around here, my lack of such materials would be a tad suspicious, if not an ironic deportation notice. Perhaps he sensed this because Takeshi then murmurs, "Don't worry. I'm just trying to call Satoshi."

_Like I'd ever help you._

_/We're supposed to be family, "cousin."/_

_I'm adopted._

"He's not answering." A worried sigh escapes his pouting lips.

_Excuse yourself to a hospital and leave Takeshi alone._

"I guess," Takeshi shrugs, "if you think you can walk a little, then I guess you can come to my house and I can bandage you up there, Hiwatari-san. I have some disinfectant, too."

_/Why go to a hospital when I can feel the precious hands of our darling pet all over my body?/_

_You better politely decline his offer._

_/But his house is so much closer than the hospital. I'm in so much pain, I just don't think I can make it past Takeshi's bed./_

_If you don't—_

"That is very kind of you." I stroke his cheek, letting my hand linger against his jaw line. "I'd appreciate it very much."

His blush only delights me.

"Let's go."

_**Takeshi**_

It's not cheating if you're saving someone's life, right?

He murmurs _thank you so much for doing this_ as he slips his sweater over his head and off his arms, down to the floor. And then I'm faced with his chiseled chest, golden locks draping down to his abs, and piercing angel eyes. Biting my lip to suppress the urge to take back my offer of healing him because this much beauty is too much to handle—really, _nobody_ should be this handsome—I dab some alcohol to a wad of gauze and sit myself behind him on my bed.

I didn't offer my bed.

He was tired.

I'm innocent.

One look at Krad's back and my attention comes back to place. Someone attacked him severely. Two large, deep wounds run parallel down his back. Oddly, his ribs seem to form bumps just under the wounds; the largest of the bumps centered in the wounds. I can't tell if someone was trying to stab Krad or burn him or rip his flesh open, but perhaps what confused me most is that Krad isn't bleeding. At all. The wounds are there, all right, but he's not bleeding. As if these were old wounds, the only sign of blood is crusted walls near the center bumps.

"Tell me if it hurts too much," I say, dabbing on the alcohol.

"Don't worry so much, darling." He scoops his hair over his left shoulder. "Take your time."

"You should go to the cops about this," I suggest, casually ignoring his spontaneous pet name. "This looks serious, Hiwatari-san."

"Please, I really would prefer it if you called me Krad."

"Hiwatari-san, I told you," I sigh. "I am not used to—"

"At the very least," he turns and cups my hand in his, dirty alcohol pad and all, and pleads, "call me Hikari. I'm more associated with them."

_**Krad**_

_You must be kidding._

_/For centuries, I've fought alongside the Hikari family. If anything, that will be my surname./_

_If by "fought," you mean "tortured," then yes, but don't you dare take our name._

"Didn't you introduce yourself as Hiwatari?" His brain is sharper than I'd hoped, but at least he is not altogether distrusting of my name change.

"Yes, but my mother's maiden name is Hikari."

_Oh, you bastard._

"She died years ago, but she's remained close to my heart, you see, and I just would prefer her name over my father's." I smile. "You understand, don't you?"

With a bit of thought, he nods and takes his hand back to dab my wounds again. In the faintest of a whisper, he says, "Hikari."

"It sounds so pure when you say it."

"It fits you. You know, because everything about you is golden, like light—um! I mean…" Another adorable blush stains his cheeks, which he tries to detract attention from by grabbing the bandages to begin wrapping up my wounds. Foolish ploy, considering it only brings him closer to me. He's cute.

_I swear if you do anything._

_/You'll watch is what you'll do./_

Just a soft kiss, just one is all I want for now. The sweetest prey is the one you lure, not the ones you pounce. So, as I observe his determined little face concentrate on my wounds, I don't act on any aggression of mine. Last time, I nearly scared the puppy to death, so today's efforts will be much tamer. He's taking care of me. I've never had anyone do this before, so I might as well savor it.

With each intimate body-wrap, I feel his breathing down my neck, over my shoulder, on my back. His fingers knead the bandages over my chest, ghost taps on my skin. In sadistic repetition, he is at one moment against me and another at a distance. It almost makes me wonder who is in fact seducing who. For when he snips the bandage to tuck, a sudden emptiness leaves me wishing my entire body needed aid.

"Done," he says, sitting back on his knees.

"Thank you."

He hugs me.

"Whoever did this to you," he says, "I'm sorry it happened. You don't deserve it, Hikari-san—no one does. And if you don't want to talk about it, it's okay."

_You honestly disgust me._

_/In my defense, I never said anyone attacked me./_

_You sure don't mind letting him believe it._

_/Would you rather I tell him the truth? I could transform right now if you wish, Satoshi-sama. I'm in the mood for it./_

_Just hurry up and leave him alone._

_/I could be doing far worse things right now, but I'm choosing not to./_

_Oh, thank you. Out of the goodness of your heart, I bet._

"You are kind."

As a small thank-you, I kiss him. My heart feels heavy, forcing me to pull away, thus meeting his worried eyes. This is odd. Or new, rather. Last time I kissed the puppy, I didn't feel this way.

"Who _is_ this man?"

Both Takeshi and I glance at the bedroom doorway, staring up at who I believe is Takeshi's father. A rather comical fellow, to tell you the truth. Either he is in complete denial of his son's sexuality or is brilliantly allowing his son to explore it on his own whilst aiming for a promotion. Whichever is the answer, he certainly wasn't expecting me. I guess in this situation, it must really appear as, _Surprise! I'm a secret lover! It's nice to meet you. We should have lunch. _

"And why is he _shirtless?_"

With that tone, we are most likely not going to have lunch.

"_Dad._ He's in _bandages_," Takeshi yells, motioning towards my chest. "Clearly we're not about to go on a sex rampage."

"That doesn't clear his name. Who is he? Haven't I raised you better than to bring complete strangers to our _house?_"

"He's not a stranger! He's Satoshi's cousin!"

There is a moment of stunned silence.

"_Excuse me?_ Satoshi's _cousin?_ What are you—trying to seduce the whole Hiwatari family? What _is_ this shit?"

Takeshi stands up, quite appalled, which in understandable because I'm vaguely appalled. Had I known my reputation would be tarnished because of its association with Satoshi, I would have gone with another alias. And yet, here I sit, not quite sure how to appropriately handle such a man. My usual options would be frowned upon by the puppy, as it were. I shouldn't harm his father, for instance, let alone murder him—even if he causes a great deal of grief to the puppy's state of mind. I can't use any form of my powers. Chances are seduction will only end awkwardly. And talking against the man might backfire should I say something too harsh that in turn insults Takeshi as well.

I suppose I should just… leave.

_For once, I agree._

_/I hate to do this, but I've never been confronted by a parental figure before./_

_I see you're intimidated._

_/I am not intimidated. Merely at a state of loss as to how to handle such a manifestation of irrational judgment. We want our lovely pet to continue believing we're two separate persons, yes? Well, that requires me to be human, who are weak. So, my only option is to surrender./_

_If that is what it takes for you to finally leave, then fine. Surrender like a human._

"I'm very sorry," I say, putting on my sweater. "I'll leave immediately."

"Hikari-san, you don't have to if you're still tired."

"Sure didn't seem tired when he kissed you!"

"Dad!" Takeshi raises his hands in the air. "Oh my god! What is _wrong_ with you?"

"What is wrong with _me?_ More like what is wrong with _you!_ You're sleeping over Hiwatari's house, now you're kissing Hiwatari's _cousin_—"

"You are taking everything out of proportion!" He glares. "And I _told you_, nothing _happened_ at Satoshi's house."

I rest a hand on Takeshi's shoulder. "I really do think I should go."

"I'm so sorry about this, Hikari-san."

"Even if nothing _did_ happen at Hiwatari's house," the father yells, "you should at least have the decency to call things off with him before going off with his cousin!"

Oh? Maybe we might have lunch.

As Takeshi guides me to the door, he shouts behind his back, "Oh my _god_, there is nothing going on! You paranoid—" He sighs, squeezing my hand. "Ugh, I'm so, so sorry about this. Anyway, I hope you feel better, Hikari-san, and—"

"Then why are you holding his _hand!_"

Instantly, he snaps, "I won't feed you for a _week_ if you don't shut _up!_"

My heart flutters.

"Goodbye," he whispers, squeezes my hand once more, and shuts the door.

I feel heavy.

* * *

**Schizo: **And there we have it! I got my notes and my ever-daydreaming brain for future chapters, so it will be done. I just don't know when. For those who care, I will now be working on the next chapter to **U S of Angel 2**, so... uh, be excited, I hope?

Thanks to all you who are still reading! I will try not to leave you all brokenhearted and alone, like abandoned puppies. I love puppies! I mean, I've never really had a puppy, so I've never learned how to take care of one, which is probably why I'm so bad at this, but I still like puppies!

No, really, I'm going to try to update at a decent rate. At the very least, more than once a year... Sigh.

Review, please.

Cheers -Steph


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